"Yes, the professor thought he knew it all," put in another.
"Hullo! There's the young chap now," said the black-moustached man, who was the manager of the show. "Say, young feller, you're all right. Any time you want a——"
He was about to shake Ned by the hand, when the constable interposed.
"You the manager of this sheebang?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"Wa-al, I'm ther constable. Whar's that pickpocket yer telephoned about?"
"Right inside the sideshow tent. We put him in there under the guard of two canvasmen."
"All right. I'll come and git him. Two uv you boys guard the prisoner here while I'm gone."
He hastened off. Ned felt his face burn as some of the men who had been clustered about Professor Luminetti gazed curiously at him. The word "prisoner" had attracted their attention.
The professor was too busy with his machine to pay any attention. He was starting up the engine to test it. The motor burred wildly and emitted flashes of flame and blue smoke. Suddenly he looked around.