“I will tell you all I know in a word,” said Eddie, putting on his coat. “Fat Bascom had it, and he brought it to Sunday School and I gave him a nickel. I meant to pry the top off, because it wouldn’t unscrew, and I was going to keep pen and pencils in it. It looked sort of pretty and funny with those pointed ends like a torpedo. But I was busy and left it in the pocket of my Sunday pants, and it is where Jack can get it. And if he hasn’t been through ’em by this time, he will do it any minute. Oh, come on, Ern!”
“Better go,” said the detective soberly.
They rushed for the Aviation Field, rolled the plane out of its hangar, and were off.
The engine was not working right, and Ernest was obliged to coax it along. Eddie, with a set and anguished face, stared ahead as though he could pull the city towards them. It took them twenty-five minutes to reach the landing field at Camp Taylor. Then Eddie, leaping from the plane, dashed for the road. He threw himself at the first automobile with such earnestness that they stopped for him. He rode down silently, and when the car turned into Third Street, where Eddie could look across the Park and see his home, his courage failed him and for a fearful moment he closed his eyes, unable to look at the wreck he felt sure was there. But when he forced his eyes to scan the familiar scene, he found the scheme of things entire. The house, his dear home, stood intact.
He leaped from the automobile, and with a fervent “Thank you!” raced over the tennis courts, pushed through the bushes surrounding the Park and leaping across the narrow pavement, burst open the door.
He could hear his mother in her room, and his father was in the bath-room shaving. Eddie ran up the stairs three at a time, and bolted into his own room. There in his own small bed, young Jack slumbered peacefully. What a darling he was! Eddie’s heart filled with manly tenderness and love for the small brother, and with a racking sigh of relief he went over to the clothespress and felt carefully in his pocket.
The cylinder was gone!
Eddie staggered back and with hands that commenced to shake pawed his clothes over, looked on the floor among his shoes, and went through the bureau. Then without knocking, without a salutation, he burst into his mother’s room.
She was a pretty woman, dark and sparkling, and her black eyes grew round and astonished as Eddie breezed in with a wild cry of: “Where is it? Did you take that brass thing out of my pocket? Where is it? Where is it?”
“Good gracious, Eddie, what a fuss! I don’t like you to burst in like this. It is rude,” she said, beginning to coil her long, wavy hair.