“All right.”
“Especially brass and copper.”
“Good enough,” said Ben, and left the place.
He walked to the railroad depot reflecting deeply. He had made a pretentious break, a sort of bluff, and had learned what he wanted to know. Ben sturdily believed that the man Knippel knew a great deal that could help his father, and now he knew where to find him.
“The way I size it up,” ruminated Ben, “is that this Knippel has a lot of people in various manufacturing towns around here stealing things and selling to him and his agents. This pin shows membership in the gang. Some one dropped it in the work shed. Who was it? Well, I’ve got my start on this business, and I’m going to work something tangible out of it.”
Ben did not tell his father of his latest experience when he reached home. In fact, he did not even then deliver to him the screws for which he had been sent.
To his surprise he found the work yard deserted. As he passed it, a queer, indefinable sensation of something being out of place assailed him. Ben paused to figure out what it was. Then he noticed that the airship skeleton was partly dismantled and some of its parts gone.
“Father, father, are you there?” he called towards the work shed. There was no reply. Ben hurried towards the house. It was untenanted, but coming out on the porch he came upon his mother. She was standing looking down the street, anxious faced and in tears.
“Why, mother, what is the matter?” exclaimed Ben in great surprise.
“Oh, my son, trouble,” responded Mrs. Hardy in a broken tone of voice.