“Not a word. But they are reliable men and if it is possible to get hold of Peregrine’s models or papers they will accomplish it.”
“Look here, Melville,” struck in the fox-faced Mr. Sykes, “do you know where to find your men in Boston?”
“Yes. I can lay my finger on them at any time.”
“All right then; you go to Boston yourself at once. If the Artillery Devices Company is going to keep its head above water, we’ve got to have that vanishing gun invention of Peregrine’s. He won’t sell, so it’s fair to take it from him by trickery if we can. Are you able to start for Boston at once?”
“Yes. Right away, practically. I agree with you that something must be done and done quick, too.”
And so it came about that an hour later Melville and Sawdon were sitting in a New York, New Haven and Hartford coach bound for Boston. As the train flew along Melville idly asked Sawdon how his circus was getting along.
“It ain’t getting along at all,” was the gruff rejoinder. “I’ve quit it cold. It seems we had no luck after the boy got away from us. It had been bad enough before that. Then we lost that lion, Wallace. He was a big drawing card.”
“And so you quit?”
“Yes; just ducked right out. I guess my performers were a sore bunch when they found that I’d left ’em in the lurch, but it couldn’t be helped. But what about this kid Ingersoll, as he’s called? Of course, I know in a general way that he’s entitled to something you’ve got, and that you don’t want him to get.”
“Entitled to something I’ve got?” said Melville, with a sneering laugh. “He’s entitled to all I’ve got—only he isn’t going to get it.”