"About—Peter," the man faltered; and then, to our great surprise, the tears began to roll down his prison-pale, furrowed, cheeks.
"What do you suppose is the matter with the poor fellow?" Mrs. LaRauche asked, turning to Chief Meigs.
The Chief shook his head, and then tapped the visitor on the shoulder. "What's on your mind, Antonio?" he inquired.
The Italian swallowed hard, then clutched the Chief by the arm. "Maybe you can helpa me, Meester Policesamans," he wailed. "I search every place since I got out of de jug, for my poor Peter. In the zoo, I find my bears, my seals, my monkeys, but no Peter."
"One of your animals missing? Is that it?" the officer inquired.
"I no can finda Peter," the animal trainer replied, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "Maybe, he escape in de night, after de cops tooka me away."
"And when was that?" I interrogated.
The reply to my question came from Mrs. LaRauche. "I happen to know," she said. "Strangely enough, Mr. Ranzetti was arrested on the very night Rene made his flight into the sub-stratosphere, transmitted that spurious message from Mars, and afterwards dropped the rocket near your beach. He was arrested, and taken to jail, early in the evening."
I caught my breath, rose, and made straight for the visitor. "Who was this—Peter?" I asked. "A chimpanzee?"
"I tought he was a chimpanzee, Meester, when I boughta him, as a baby, in East Africa," the Italian replied, "but he got bigger and bigger, and he done t'ings no chimpanzee never has done. Sometimes, Meester, he looka and acta so mucha lika de biga, reala man, I t'ink I snuffa da coke. I traina him in secret. Teacha him de grand tricks. I mean, someday, to maka de great sensation with my Peter. He maka my fortune. But, now, poor Peter, he gone! I no finda him. I looka every place—every place."