“Yep.”
“Rats!” The man leaned back, arms behind his head, carelessly locking his fingers as he pretended to laugh. “Doc, you’re pretty interested in that, aren’t you? Considering where it was found——”
“Yes, considering where it was found—” Doc repeated the words with a meaning that differed from the other man’s phrase. “Considering that it was supposed to be a sketch of a new design for an airplane, and I saw our young friend, Chick, discover it when the wind yanked it out of a drawer—” he forgot his mannerism and spoke directly, crisply, “I wonder if you go over there to work on it in secret—eh?”
The man swung around in his chair.
“As likely as that you go there to hunt sea-marsh stuff for medicine,” he snapped. “It was stolen from me, as a matter of fact!” He turned his eyes on Doc, accusingly.
“Not by me, brother not by me, not it! No, sir! You got it back, anyhow, so what’s the odds how it went? What is it—besides a sketch of a new aircraft?”
Chick became more alert, more intent: he had to hold in check his impulse to hitch forward in his chair. The answer might be interesting.
The control chief laughed.
“Besides a drawing of an airplane—what could it be, I wonder?”
“Look here!” Doc left the doorsill that had supported him, and took a few steps closer to the other man.