“Stop raving and tell me what happened,” demanded Melville angrily.
“Just this,” rejoined Sawdon, “he was kidnapped in the air”; and he went on to explain to Melville how the boys had aided Ralph to escape from the balloon.
“And,” he concluded, “we didn’t get a chance to get a hold of the kid again. First they took him to the home of a guy named Parisgreen, or something like that, an’ then——”
“Hold on,” demanded Melville angrily, but with a note of eagerness in his voice, “this man Parisgreen, as you call him—he lives near to Pokeville?”
“That’s the gook.”
“His name’s not Parisgreen at all then. It’s Peregrine; an inventor, isn’t he?”
“Well, he and those kids invented a way of getting that kid away from us, all right, all right.”
“Where is the boy now?”
“In Boston, I guess. I learned later that that’s where those kids were headed for when we passed ’em on the road. But they had Ralph hidden, else I’d have got him back all right.”
“A nice mess you’ve made of it,” growled Melville angrily. “Well?” he demanded, looking up as the office boy tapped timidly and then opened the door.