"Me not know," was the answer, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Why you hit me?"
"Why did I hit you?" repeated Bob. "If I hadn't you'd been sailing skyward by this time."
The Italian started away, muttering sullenly. Steve stepped forward, laying a restraining hand on the man's arm.
"Wait a minute. I want to talk with you."
Mr. Carrhart sat down on the bench rather heavily, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"Now, Carrhart, perhaps you will tell us the meaning of this remarkable scene," said Mr. Cary. "Something is up. I have a suspicion."
"Yes, you are right; something is up—or was. Do you gentlemen know what was in that bag that you saw on fire just now?"
"No."
"It was dynamite," said the president in an impressive tone.