At the moment when Aladdin came to, the door of the smithy was
darkened by the tremendous figure of Hannibal St. John.
Wrapped in his long black cloak, fastened at the throat by
three links of steel chain, his face glowering and cavernous,
the great man strode like a controlled storm through the awed
underlings and stopped rigid at Aladdin's side.

"Can the boy speak?" he said.

To Aladdin, looking up, there was neither pity nor mercy
apparent in the senator's face, and a great fear shook him.
Would the wrath descend?

"Do you know where my daughter is?"

The great rolling voice nearly broke between the "my" and the
"daughter," and the fear left Aladdin.

"Mister St. John," he said, "she's up at one of the islands.
We went in a boat and couldn't get back. If you'll only get a
boat and some one to row, I can take you right to her." Then
Aladdin knew that he had not said all there was to say.
"Mister St. John," said Aladdin, "I done it all."

Men ran out of the smithy to prepare a boat.

"Who is this boy?" said St. John.

"It's Aladdin O'Brien, the inventor's boy," said the smith.