"What does that mean?"
"It means that we're not so very far from home, and in the midst of a fairly large city. But it means more than that."
"What?" demanded the balloonist, struck by an air of excitement about the lad, for, as Tom stood in the subdued glow of the lights from one of the airship's cabin windows, all the others having been darkened as the storm slackened, his, eyes shone brightly.
"This is the building where Anson Morse, one of the gang that robbed dad, once had an office," went on Tom eagerly. "That was brought out at the trial. And it's the place where they used to do some of their conspiring. Maybe some of the crowd are here now laying low."
"Well, if they are, we don't want anything to do with that gang," said Mr. Sharp. "We can't arrest them. Besides I've found out that our ship is all right, after all. We can proceed as soon as we like. There is only a small leak in the gas container. It was the generator machine that was put out of business by the lightning, and I've repaired it."
"I want to see if I can get any trace of the rascals. Maybe I could learn something from the janitor of the Arcade about them. The janitor is probably here."
"But why do you want to get any information about that gang?"
"Because," answered Tom, and, as Mr. Damon at that moment started to come from the cabin of the airship, the lad leaped forward and whispered the remainder of the sentence into the ear of the balloonist.
"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp, in a tense whisper. Tom nodded vigorously.
"But how can you enter the building?" asked the other. "You can't drop over the edge."