Charles Beadle

“ CHAPTER XII VI GLANCED up from cutting the sleeve of Carnell's coat.
“But didn't Mr. Selwyn tell you?” she queried.
“Mr. Selwyn?” repeated the stranger. “Who's Mr. Selwyn?”
“Why,” exclaimed Vi, “that young man with whom you— Oh!”
She paused, knife in the air, aware of the difference between the man before her and the giggling, singing idiot in the saloon.
“You don't remember that young man who was fighting with Mr. Carnell here?”
“Never saw the man in my life!” ”

“ I got an idea when they began using bombs at the beginning of the war and I experimented.
“You see,” he added with an incongruous touch of pride, “I'm a professor of physics too; and I perfected this bomb—compound of ether and cyanogen, you know. Well, at first it didn't work. Often they would not explode.
“They had to be a contact bomb because the ground is so soft—it's swampy where the orang-outan lives—and then I hit on the idea of blowing an egg and inserting the compound.”
“But what about Datto?” ”

“ I've seen 'em. Now he's getting his memory. Wait. Mr. Lamberteau,” she began again, “what was the thing that Datto saw?”
“I couldn't help it!” wailed the man excitedly. “I couldn't! It wasn't my fault! I didn't know that he knew where they were! I——”
“Of course you're not to blame, Mr. Lamberteau,” said Vi reassuringly. “That's all right; we know that. But tell me now what was it that Datto threw?”
“Why, the ether bombs.”
“The what!” exclaimed Carnell.
“Bombs! Lumme!” ejaculated the men.
“Be quiet!” commanded Vi. “Mr. Lamberteau, what were the bombs for?” ”