“You appear anxious to know if I did or not,” parried the other. “May I ask why, outside, of course, of your natural interest in learning if I acceded to his wishes?”
“Why,” burst out the inventor, whose strong point was not worldly wisdom, “if I knew where he was I’d have the scoundrel arrested. He attempted to destroy my craft before she was launched, and—but never mind that. I would feel deeply grateful to you, however, if you could tell me where I could lay my hands on him.”
“I don’t know myself,” replied the other, “but I tell you what, Mr. Lockyer, I won’t be going back to the city to-night. Suppose this afternoon I try to get track of him. If I succeed I’ll make an appointment with you this evening, and we’ll get the local police and run him down.”
“The very thing!” exclaimed the inventor warmly. “I really don’t know how to thank you, Mr.—Mr.——”
“Armstrong—James Armstrong, of the United Magazines Association,” was the glib reply. “Mind you, I don’t know if I will be able to succeed in finding the man again, but if I do, be assured I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Armstrong,” warmly replied the inventor. “It’s very good of you.”
“Not at all, not at all,” was the hasty response. “In this case, as the copy-books used to say, ‘Virtue is its own reward.’”
With this he strolled off and mingled with the other news-getters.