“He’s as ugly as he looks,” replied the detective.
“Is he the only one?”
“Professor Morgan’s bomb sent one flying among the trees, where he will stay until carried away. And that is Grace Hastings?” said the officer, with a radiant face, as he looked at the winsome countenance in the doorway.
“She told me that that is her name, and I think she ought to know; but what do you mean to do with this fellow?”
“I have been thinking. You know there were three of them; I exchanged shots with Catozzi when we were starting with your aeroplane. I am anxious to capture him, but he was left at Chesterton, where he will probably wait till he receives more news.”
“You can march this one ahead of you to the town and have him locked up.”
The face of the detective became grave. He shook his head.
“I am afraid that if I do that, and the truth becomes known, as it surely will be, the people will lynch him.”
“Who cares if they do?” asked Harvey; “it will serve him right.”
“He and the others deserve it, but the law should deal with them. I have a better plan.”