Tom Trigger, who about this time went into the workroom for the parachutes, noticed that the inner door had been forced open and left ajar.
Warner’s clothes showed that there must have been a tussle with his prisoner before he was brought to the aeronaut, who said to him,—
“What have you been doing, my man, and where do you come from?”
“My name is Eben, sir. I came with my master from Sussex, and I was looking about for him—he came to see the balloon, but I expect he has left for Tilbury, as he had to go that way this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it,” said Harry Goodall, who did not think much of his offence. “Do you think you need detain him?” he added, turning to Warner.
“I must do that, sir. He will have to go before our inspector and the general manager, as he was inside the company’s private premises. Besides, I have reason to know he was in your room, too, Mr Goodall.”
“Someone has been there,” said Trigger, who had returned. “The inside door was open, a thing we’ve never seen before.”
In reply to a question as to the state of Warner’s clothes, the policeman said,—
“He is a downright Pocket Hercules, Mr Goodall—he floored me by his wonderful strength. I had been following him from the tower, where he had been for some time with a big, swell-looking chap, whom I have seen before, sir, though to-day he was got up in quite a different suit. They had been looking down from the balcony on your balloon store, and they came down together—the tall customer left, but this man went inside your workroom, I saw him there, after which he came out through the engine-house.”
Trigger then explained that he had seen them dodging about earlier in the morning.