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Updated: May 21, 2025
A portion of this statement read as follows: The chief knows who the two principals are, namely, "Brick" Daffy and "Red" McFadden.
Mountains of it!" yelled Eleanor, trying to drag her nuggets from the boot without untying the strings. "Oh, Anne, we found a gold mine! A great big cave full of gold!" cried Polly, managing to untie the strings. "Poor children! Are you daffy?" exclaimed Anne, not sure whether to cry or laugh.
"That's nonsense," said Dorothy. "Why, ev'ryone loves Ozma. There isn't a person in the Land of Oz who would steal a single thing she owns." "Huh!" replied the Patchwork Girl. "You don't know ev'ry person in the Land of Oz." "Why don't I?" "It's a big country," said Scraps. "There are cracks and corners in it that even Ozma doesn't know of." "The Patchwork Girl's just daffy," declared Betsy.
I'm going to see my daughter, and I dare say I shall catch the 3.49 home from Liverpool Street. Suppose we take our chance of meeting there? Thus it was agreed. Mr. Daffy turned in the direction of his son's abode; the timber-merchant went northward, and presently reached Finsbury Park, where in a house of unpretentious but decent appearance, dwelt Mr. Bowles.
Daffy and McFadden are the boldest scoundrels in the profession; the chief has reasons for believing that they are the men who stole the stove out of the detective headquarters on a bitter night last winter in consequence of which the chief and every detective present were in the hands of the physicians before morning, some with frozen feet, others with frozen fingers, ears, and other members.
Daffy got on to the subject of social and political reform, and, after copious exposition, would ask what Mr. Lott thought. He knew the timber-merchant too well to expect an immediate reply. There came a long pause, during which Mr.
"Stryker," he said steadily, "give me the four pounds and let's have no more nonsense; or else hand over my things at once." "Daffy," Stryker told vacancy, with conviction. "Lor' luv me if I sees 'ow he ever 'ad sense enough to escype. W'y, yer majesty!" and he bowed, ironic. "I 'ave given you yer quid." "Just about as much as I gave you that pearl pin," retorted Kirkwood hotly.
Without having paused to utter a word of explanation, apology, or regret, the man was hastening away. "Further proof that he's daffy," muttered Frank. He longed to hasten after the stranger, but felt Inza clinging to him in weakness, which prevented such a move. And now their friends, having discovered for the first time that something was wrong, came hurrying to the spot, asking many questions.
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."
Grimly she scoffed at what she chose to consider a weakness. "This is a nice time o' day for you to try to turn proper, Mollie Gillespie," she told herself plainly. "Just because a chit of a girl goes daffy over you, is that any reason to change yore ways? You'd ought to have a lick o' sense or two at yore age." But her derision was a fraud. She was tired of being whispered about.
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