“Suppose,” suggested Mr. Davis, “that you tell us about it—that is, if you feel able to do so now.”
“You see,” added Captain Simmonds, “except that we saw you shinning down the lightning rod, and that we got Chief Osceola’s warning just in time to prevent us breaking into the house, we really have no information as to what happened. The crowd of us arrived only in time to scamper off before the whole shebang blew up.”
“I realize that,” said Bill. Except for the burning pain in his hands and a certain stiffness in his arms and shoulder muscles, he was feeling pretty much himself again. “I’m quite able to talk about it now, and I’d like to. The sooner we get started after that old devil and put him behind the bars for keeps, the happier yours truly will be!”
“Let’s have it from the time you and the young Indian Chief left Heartfield’s,” suggested the Police Captain.
Bill told them the story in detail as the car bumped over the rutty road and his listeners sat silent, taking in every word.
“Jehosophat!” exploded Mr. Davis, when he had finished. “I’ve read about some of your other experiences, Bolton, but that is certainly one exciting tale! The old man with the wheezy voice is a maniac, of course, but people of that type can be exceedingly clever. In some ways, they often appear absolutely normal, too. That old bird, if he is really an old man, as you guessed from his voice, may appear to be a solid and possibly useful citizen, to the majority of his friends and associates. But he’s cracked, just the same—mad as a March hare on one subject—I’ll stake my oath on it!”
“And when we know what that one thing is,” chimed in Captain Simmonds, “We’ll be a long way ahead in solving this kidnapping. So he got away in a big Fokker! There aren’t so many of those busses around. You’d recognize his voice again, of course, Mr. Bolton?”
“I’ll never be able to forget it, Captain.”
“No, I guess not. Miss Lightfoot seems to be the only person we can lay our hands on who has seen his face, and she is under the influence of a drug! My men will search the ruins of that house. It’s unlikely, though, that they’ll find any clue in what’s left of it, and the ruins will be too hot for a couple of days, unless we have rain.”
“I wouldn’t pin too much hope on Miss Lightfoot, either,” said Mr. Davis. “It’s quite possible that she is suffering from shock, as well as having been drugged.”