"Clean out of his head. Daffy. Must have wandered away from
Gridley during a loony streak. He isn't over it yet."
The two rough-looking ones protested loudly against being deprived of their liberty.
"I don't really know that you fellows have done anything," admitted Chief Coy. "But I'm taking you along on suspicion that it was you, and not Mr. Dodge himself, who bound and gagged him."
This retort, given with a great deal of dry sarcasm, silenced the prisoners for the time being.
"We ought to have this out an hour before 'The Evening Mail' people," exulted Editor Pollock. "Prescott, my boy, you're a born reporter! And, Darrin, you're not much behind." "Theodore Dodge found by two "Blade" reporters! That won't sound bad!"
The briefest questioning was enough to show that Theodore Dodge was in no condition to give any account of himself. He did not reply with an intelligible word. His eyes held only a vacant stare. It was as though memory and reason had suddenly snapped within his brain.
"The doctors will want him," commented Chief Coy. "And we can't be hustling back a bit too soon."
It had been a gloomy morning at the home of Banker Dodge.
Through the night, none had slept. Anxiety had kept them all on the rack.
Mrs. Dodge, a thin and nervous woman, had gone from one spell of hysterics into another, as morning neared. A trained nurse had to be sent for.