per trio just behind
them. More, Chief Coy and his subordinates had their revolvers
drawn.

"Howdy, gents?" was Mr. Brogans' greeting as he dropped his club
and tried to grin.

"Take care of him, Hemingway," directed Thief Coy, briefly.

"Me?" demanded Brogans, in feigned astonishment. "What have _I_
done?"

The noise roused Bill, who sprang up. But Bill must have found
the police wonderfully soothing, for he quieted down at once.

Both rascals were taken care of. Then Theodore Dodge was found
lying bound and gagged on the floor. A ragged, foul-smelling
coat had been substituted for the one that had been left at the
river's bank. The banker looked up at the intruders with a stupefied
leer, betraying neither alarm or pleasure.

As soon as the two rough-looking fellows had been handcuffed Mr.
Dodge was freed, and his tongue also, but Chief Coy, after raising
the banker and questioning him, muttered:

"Clean out of his head. Daffy. Must have wandered away from
Gridley during a loony streak. He isn't over it yet."

The two rough-looking ones protested loudly against being deprived
of their liberty.

"I don't really know that you fellows have done anything," admitted
Chief Coy. "But I'm taking you along on suspicion that it was
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 obey