you, and not Mr. Dodge himself, who bound and gagged him."

This retort, given with a great deal of dry sarcasm, silenced
the prisoners for the time being.

"We ought to have this out an hour before 'The Evening Mail' people,"
exulted Editor Pollock. "Prescott, my boy, you're a born reporter!
And, Darrin, you're not much behind." "Theodore Dodge found by
two "Blade" reporters! That won't sound bad!"

The briefest questioning was enough to show that Theodore Dodge
was in no condition to give any account of himself. He did not
reply with an intelligible word. His eyes held only a vacant
stare. It was as though memory and reason had suddenly snapped
within his brain.

"The doctors will want him," commented Chief Coy. "And we can't
be hustling back a bit too soon."

It had been a gloomy morning at the home of Banker Dodge.

Through the night, none had slept. Anxiety had kept them all
on the rack.

Mrs. Dodge, a thin and nervous woman, had gone from one spell
of hysterics into another, as morning neared. A trained nurse
had to be sent for.

Then in a calm lull Mrs. Dodge had telephoned for Lawyer Ripley,
who lost his breakfast through the speed with which he obeyed