“Marjorie Evelyn Verrinder, and——”
“Harold Ellis Verrinder,” prompted Dick.
“Who’s that?” inquired the Ambassador, sharply.
“My little brother,” was the reply.
“You said his name was Fidge.”
“Oh, yes, but that’s his nickname, you know.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort. Now then, just keep quiet while I finish this document. There,” he continued, when he had finished writing some mysterious-looking words on the paper, and had attached two enormous red seals to it—“that’s your warrant for arresting the Dodo, when you have found him; and it is also an authority from the little Panjandrum for you at any time to become any size that you wish; to float through the air at will; and to live under water if necessary. So you have everything in your favor, and I shall expect the Dodo back in less than a week. Do you hear? Now I’m off.”
The little man mounted his ostrich, and without saying a word more to any one, he and his followers rode off in the direction from whence they had come.
“Well, I never!” said Dick, picking up the scrawl which had fallen at his feet. “Here’s a go! We’ve got to find that beastly old Dodo in less than a week, or be—what was it?”