“Got a ladder?” Townsend called to the woman. “Gottaderlad Idner (shrug) no spick,” said the woman. “She says the ladder has gone back to Italy,” said Townsend. “Shall I ask the goat?” “You make me tired,” Pee-wee yelled. “Have you seen anything of a ladder?” Townsend asked the goat. “You’re crazy,” Pee-wee shouted. “He says he ate the ladder for dessert last Sunday,” said Townsend. “How near is the car?” “It’s coming along fast and it’s a Buick roadster,” said Pee-wee. In deference, perhaps, to the approaching vehicle, Townsend dragged himself to his feet and, yawning, ambled over to where he had hung his coat. It was not where he left it. But it was not far off. It lay within the picturesque enclosure, one of its sleeves pulled out, part of its lining in a state comparable to shredded wheat and one of its pockets inside out. Nearby lay the tattered remnant of his leather wallet. Out of the mouth of the billy goat dangled a railroad time-table, partially consumed. He was not a discriminating goat for it was an Erie time-table. A hasty inspection of the carnage revealed the worst and bespoke a massacre more horrible than the charge of the homeless wasps. “What’s the matter?” Pee-wee called. “The goat ate my wallet and eleven dollars and my driver’s license,” called Townsend. “G—o—o—d _night_!” shouted Pee-wee. CHAPTER XVII GONE Along the straight, even way sped the Buick roadster at about thirty-five miles an hour, for automobile inspectors have a partiality for violating the speed laws. In the car were Inspector Snagg and Inspector Ketchum. They were, in fact, returning to Newburgh after assisting in quite a haul at a likely spot where highways intersected a little north of the scene of the last recorded harrowing adventures. There, each passing motorist had been held up for his driver’s license upon showing which he had been suffered to go his way unmolested. The car came to a stop before the single gate which blocked the right half of the road. “What’s the matter here? Who put this gate down?” demanded Inspector Snagg. “Whose car is that there?” “It isn’t exactly a car,” said Townsend quietly, “but it’s mine.” “You put that gate down? What’s that kid doing up there?” “He seems to be standing there,” said Townsend. “I climbed up to reconnoiter and the gate fell down,” Pee-wee shouted. “The word _reconnoiter_ was too heavy for the gate, it fell down,” said Townsend. The two inspectors were very domineering and self-sufficient. The power of asking questions peremptorily in rapid-fire fashion is quickly learned by detectives and such. An impression of brisk efficiency is thus produced.