"He ditn't vent," protested Carl, in a temper, "he vas dook."
"Well, he was carried off in the thing, no matter whether he went of his own free will or was taken by force. If we each of us had a pair of wings we might follow the flyin' machine, but we ain't got 'em, so we'll have to do what we can on the ground."
"Dere iss a palloon house oudt on der roadt py der rolling mills," suggested Carl. "Meppy der Hawk vas dere. Dot's vere Prady keeps him ven he ain'd sky-hootin' t'roo der clouds. Meppy ve go und take a look at der palloon house, eh?"
"I know the place, and it won't do any harm to go there and look—but the fellow who ran off with your friend would be foolish to drop down there."
"Vell, foolish or nod, ve look efery blace vat ve can."
The balloon house was not a great way from that part of Hoyne Street, and Harris and Carl reached it after a cross-lots walk of five minutes.
They found the great doors open, but there was no air-ship in the place and no one on watch around it. Furthermore, an examination of the interior showed that an extensive clean-up had been made of the various tools which Matt and Carl had seen in the place during the afternoon. Everything of value had been removed.
Carl explained all this for the officer's benefit.
"It's a cinch the owner of the air-ship has changed his headquarters," commented Harris. "Brady, you say, the fellow's name is? Well, he's an inventor. One of his inventions is a patent 'jimmy'—which, of course, he wouldn't dare to patent. We've been watching his air-ship operations, here in South Chicago, but they seemed straight and legitimate enough."
"Do you know dot feller, Hamildon Jerrold?" asked Carl.