Bob realized that non-resistance was a wise course. As he had surmised, he was led back toward the office. He was glad that he had done nothing, said nothing to explain the situation so far. The man who had hold of him, who urged him along the corridor, was Griff’s father, the man from whom they sought to save Griff.
At the office door Bob, panting and choked a trifle by the tight grip on his coat, took in the situation swiftly.
It looked, from all the appearances, as though Al were dictating from the slip while Curt manipulated the combination, to open the safe; on the other hand, from another point of view, it might appear that the pair had recently had the safe open and were closing it.
What made that more probable to an outsider’s eyes was the package of greenbacks which Al held!
“What does this mean?” Mr. Parsons, half dragging Bob along, made a quick, nervous advance, caught the package from Al with his free hand.
“It means that your—” Al began in his imprudent haste; Bob gave him a sharp, meaning look. Al, catching it, realizing that he had almost mentioned Griff, whom they had previously agreed to aid, was silent.
“It means that we came back here—” Curt began and was interrupted by the angry partner of Mr. Tredway.
“Not content with taking those books,” he said angrily, “you want to take the company money—how did you get into my desk? Pick the lock? That adds another count against you!”
He released Bob’s coat collar and strode to the desk, a flat-topped one in the center of the room. Catching up the telephone receiver, he made a call.
“Hello—hello! Give me Police Headquarters! Yes, thanks!”
For an instant the members of the Sky Squad were stunned.
“What’s that?” Mr. Parsons spoke into the transmitter again. “He is out? How soon will he be back? Have him call Mr. Parsons, at the aircraft plant! Yes—perhaps I can give him some tenants for the new cells in the police station.”
He hung up the earpiece.
Bob, recovering his usual good judgment, began to consider the very difficult situation that faced the Sky Squad.
Al, however, seldom thought before he spoke; more often than his brother, he was sorry for hasty decisions and sharp speeches.
“You’ll be sorry if you tell the Chief of Police,” blustered Al.
Curt, as thoughtful as Bob, trod on the foot of the younger captive and Al, jumping away, refused to be warned.
“I don’t care!” he cried. “If he thinks two sons of a detective, and their friend will be put in cells for trying to save—oh, all right, Bob!—for trying to put money back into a safe—” he whirled on Mr. Parsons at the sound of the latter’s sarcastic laugh, “—that’s what we were doing! If the Police Chief arrests us—we’ll ask him to arrest you, too!”
“Indeed! Why!”
“For taking the company books away. For showing them to somebody outside the firm—planning how to get more cheap parts into the plant. Oh, we know all about you!”
“How do you know I had company books?”
“I saw the pages open on the table at The Windsock!”
“Indeed! Young man,” he swung to Curt. “Please go into the bookkeeper’s room, unlock his book cabinet, and bring all the books you find.”
Curt, surprised, took the small key from their captor, went in and lighted the adjoining office, returning, finally, with an armful of books.
“Do you know the books of a complete set when you see them?”
“Bob does,” declared Al, still angry, but becoming a little uneasy. He might have jumped to his decision about the books he had seen. He was always making snap decisions!
“Examine that set, young man—er, Bob!”
“It’s complete!” Bob admitted.
“Exactly!”
“Then why were you in such a sweat to get the others when we tried to—” Al’s voice tailed down to nothing; he began to see how really guilty they could be made to seem. There was entry into the offices at night, an open private desk, a tell-tale safe combination memorandum on the floor, a package of bills beside the safe, for one chain of evidence; there was an intrusion on a private conference, at The Windsock, and the subsequent escape with the books for a second, not to think of Bob’s use of the airplane with no permission from a higher authority than a watchman, and the infraction of State law by landing on a highway and deserting the ship in a traffic lane. Al’s bravado began to evaporate.
Bob, who had remained cool, thinking, was able to see a brighter side to the situation.
“Please, Mr. Parsons,” he began, “don’t call in the police. That would force us to defend ourselves. We could explain what we were doing and why. But we have a—a code of honor, and we would rather have you let things work out without the police—and reporters.”
“You would really suffer more than we would,” Curt declared.
“Is that so? We shall see.”
The telephone bell blared. Mr. Parsons turned.
“Hello!” he spoke into the instrument.
“Father! Don’t! Those fellows are protecting me! I can’t let them!”
Griff stood in the office door, his face white, his lips quivering.
Mr. Parsons, catching sight of his son, stared.
“Just a minute, Griff,” he said. “Hello—is the——”
“Father! You shan’t! You mustn’t! Listen to me. I took that money!——”
The telephone receiver dropped, hanging by its cord to swing unheeded against the man’s leg.
“I’ll confess!” Griff, for all his fear of his father, of consequences, was showing his true manliness. “I ran away, Father, because I thought I had put the money back and locked the safe. I didn’t want to be caught. I thought I could go down the fire escape and get away. But when I saw you catch Bob I came back and listened—I must not let these fine friends stand a night in a cell for something I’ve done.”
Then, haltingly, ashamed and despairing, but honestly, Griff cleared the Sky Squad and told the truth.
“He was trying to get out of his trouble,” Curt said to end the deep silence that followed Griff’s explanation, “and he didn’t want to come to you when you had so many things on your mind.”
“Our cousin has gone to get money for him from Father,” added Bob. “But Father must have started for home before Lang got there, and it was only when the man at The Windsock threatened to come and tell you and make it look worse than it is, that Griff lost his common sense. We came back here to meet each other and saw what he was doing and convinced him it was a mistake.”
The impulsiveness of Al prompted him to “put in his oar,” but his earlier bluster was gone and he kept still.
They watched Mr. Parsons.
His face was set and pale, his fingers worked nervously. He had his head bent.
Bob, quietly picking up the telephone as he heard the impatient voice of someone at the other end of the connection making it squeak, spoke into the transmitter quietly.
“We’ll call you back. Something has come up to make things different.” He hung up the earpiece.
Apparently Mr. Parsons did not notice him at all. Added to the blow given by his son’s confession that he had broken promises and gotten into deep trouble was the knowledge that three loyal companions, with full knowledge of his guilt had not only protected him from himself but had shielded him at the expense of being, themselves, suspected and unfairly accused.
Mr. Parsons looked up. He held out a hand to Bob.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am sorry!” Bob, smiling with some relief, eagerly gripped the extended hand, to be followed by Curt and Al.
Then the father turned to his son.
Three members of the Sky Squad held their breath.
“Son,” the voice seemed cool and sharp, but it changed suddenly, “Son, I guess I’d have done better to make a comrade of you than to try to rule you with fear and threats. Come here, Griffith.” The young man advanced, hopeful, but also shame-faced. “Son, we all make mistakes. If we learn not to make them again, that is life’s lesson. I am not a judge. I am—your father!”
Griff’s hand reached out impulsively.
“I had to tell you—but I guess if it hadn’t been to save these friends, I might have gone on. I guess I’m a coward.”
“I should say not!” cried Al.
“Not you!” Bob was equally emphatic.
“It took more bravery to walk in under the circumstances than to tell your father any other time, I say!” Curt exclaimed.
“I will settle with that fellow at the roadhouse,” Mr. Parsons stated, when forgiveness was assured to Griff and the five occupants of the office were determined to “work together” for a change, “If he has been paid——”
“Why not meet the Police Chief somewhere and have Griff tell him the things that are done against the law at The Windsock,” suggested Al. “Then we could all go there and give evidence of how Jenks tried to collect twice from Griff—and maybe we would find out something about—our own mystery. I think he is in it, some way!”
Mr. Parsons decided that he owed the Chief some explanation of his call and, somewhat over-excited, and not his usual sensible self, he failed to realize just what Al’s suggestion implied—that they make Griff incriminate himself, since he had played at the tables without informing against the hotel. The Police Chief agreed to meet them near the roadhouse, and when Mr. Parsons hung up and turned back to them he was much more calm than they had ever seen him. “If I explain my own purposes,” he said, “it will be easier for us all to understand and get together. I have been trying to protect my absent partner——”
“Absent?” Bob repeated the word, “your absent partner?”
“Yes. Arthur Tredway. He went into hiding.”
“I know!” cried Al, “I know now! I thought the face of the man in that brown airplane—the one who flew it—was familiar. That’s Mr. Tredway!”
“Yes, my boy, you are right.”
“But—” Curt was rather stunned, “I don’t understand.”
“Mr. Tredway—alive?” cried Griff.
“Yes, alive. This has been a very mixed affair,” the partner declared. “I knew that Arthur Tredway was alive, but I could not speak of it or explain, because we did not know whom we could trust, and so told no one.”
“Then he wasn’t—in the crash?”
Mr. Parsons turned to answer Bob.
“No.”
“But why did he do it? Why did he hide and let everybody think he had ‘gone West?’” Bob demanded.
“Don’t you remember—crossed wires?” Curt reminded him.
That had to be explained.
“So someone crossed wires that were scraped nearly bare, in Arthur’s own ship!” Mr. Parsons was dismayed. “That proves his suspicion that somebody meant harm to him. And that is what we hid him away to discover. If the accidents ceased with his disappearance, he was in danger; if not, the damage was aimed at the aircraft company.”
“But you haven’t found out why he was in danger—or from whom?” declared Curt.
“No,” admitted the partner. Al, fired with enthusiasm, added:
“But we will!”
Mr. Parsons was not so sure.
While the quintet waited for the taxicab which Mr. Parsons summoned from town, Griff put the money back in the safe, thankful for his escape. Bob, Curt and Al expressed their elation that he was freed from suspicion, and Barney arrived.
“The watchman called me,” the manager explained. “Things got a bit too exciting out here and he thought I ought to know. What is there to tell me?”
The explanations took up the time of waiting.
“Hm-m-m.” Barney was pleased but thoughtful. “Glad to learn my best friend’s partner is cleared,” he nodded at Mr. Parsons. “Certainly I’m delighted that his son is all straight. And Tredway is alive! Glory be! I’m gladdest about that.”
“I knew you would be,” agreed Mr. Parsons.
“The man who gave me everything I have, made me the manager of his plant! I’ll say I’m glad he’s all right. Well, let’s go see that ex-pilot and his wicked two-autograph ally!” he grinned at Al.
“I think we ought to try to catch those truckmen first,” suggested Curt.
“Oh, let them alone,” argued Barney, and Mr. Parsons agreed.
“You know what they were doing,” he told Curt. “All you have to do now is check the stuff that is unloaded from our truck in the morning. If that turns out to be poor material, trace the other truck, get your proof—and at least one part of the mystery will be easily solved.”
They went out and packed into the taxicab, giving its driver direction for meeting the Police Chief at the edge of the picnic grove.
When they got there and related their experiences they were daunted to find him decidedly lukewarm about “rounding up” the ex-pilot and his roadhouse manager.
“I don’t think the idea is so good,” the Chief of Police stated. “Griffith Parsons has no receipt. He can’t actually prove that he paid real money, or that he paid at all. Anyway, now that his father knows the whole business, that fellow, Jenks, hasn’t a chance to collect again. He won’t dare try. Just what do you want me to do?”
“There’s this note put on the airplane, and his trying to avoid showing his handwriting by giving me two autographs,” Al suggested.
“In a way I’m sorry to destroy that clue,” said Mr. Parsons, “but when we get to the roadhouse you will see that it has no value.”
“What did you want me to do?” repeated the police official.
“We thought of facing the manager, Jenks, with Griff’s evidence of how he permits gambling to go on—and other things outside the law—and making him tell us what he knows,” Bob urged.
The man shook his head.
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” the officer chuckled as he eyed Bob, Curt and Al. “Graft—hush-money! But that isn’t it at all. As far as Griff’s information goes, we’ll take care of that better by making a raid when the place is crowded and the barn is actually in use for illicit purposes. But, don’t you see what you are doing?”
The chums shook their heads.
“I do,” said Barney, and Mr. Parsons agreed again. “If we offer to make him tell with a threat of what we will do if he refuses,—we are ‘compounding a felony’ if we get him to tell anything and don’t go through with the legal steps on the face of our evidence.”
“That’s it.”
“Oh, well,” Barney saw how disappointed the three chums were, although they admitted the justice of the official’s attitude, “let’s go out and see my old patron and comrade.”
The Chief of Police agreed to look into the charges Griff had made and turned his car to return to his home, while Barney, in one cab with Bob and Al, and Mr. Parsons in the one they had called, with Curt and his own son, went on.
There was a vociferous greeting between Mr. Tredway and his plant manager.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were all right?” he cried, pumping the plant owner’s hand, slapping his back, and, as Al said later, “almost kissing him,” while the mysterious stranger, and the others watched with various feelings.
“I had to make my plans in secret,” Mr. Tredway retorted. “Not even my partner knew until tonight. But—let us get acquainted, all the way ’round.”
He turned to the mystery man behind him.
“This is my brother,” he presented the man, “and so these are the three young men who have worked so hard to solve the mystery of my crash into the lake!” He shook hands and they selected a private dining room on the second floor for a midnight repast.
“Well,” he said, smiling pleasantly at the three rather silent youths as the first course, a hot, nourishing soup, was served, “have you solved the puzzle of the mystery crash?”
“I think we have—but not all, sir,” replied Bob. “I think I can put together what happened, but not why it had to happen.”
“Go ahead,” Mr. Tredway encouraged.
“Yes, do,” urged Barney. “I admit I’m stumped.”
“Well, sir,” Bob, without trying to be vain, spoke frankly. “We got mixed up and puzzled, at first, because we were trying to solve a lot of things by connecting them with your—disappearance.”
“And we made the mistake of suspecting everybody,” interrupted Al.
“That mixed Griff’s case in, and his father’s,” agreed Curt, and he turned back to give Bob the center of the stage.
“You didn’t know whether the damage to airplanes was aimed at the plant or at you direct,” Bob told Mr. Tredway, who nodded. “You had two airplanes—both alike, except one was the Golden Dart and the other was the Silver Flash.”
“Exactly. And I thought,” Mr. Tredway interrupted, “if the guilty person knew which airplane I meant to deliver, he would damage that one and so, at the last minute I changed my ship, after saying I was going to deliver the Golden Dart I took off in the Silver Flash——”
“And you were right,” gasped Al. “When we flew the Golden one her rudder cable was frayed and broke.”
“Right, my young friend. And nothing was wrong with the other.”
“Then how did you crash it—why did it crack up?”
Mr. Tredway looked to Bob for an explanation, desiring to test the youth’s skill at deduction.
“I haven’t much to work on,” Bob said modestly, “but this is how I think you did it:
“Your brother flew here in the brown ship and hid it in the field, leaving the note to show you it was ready.”
“And then?——”
“You took off early, and then set down the big cabin ship on the turf—that accounts for the deep ruts—and the ship was in the way so you dragged it into the stubble until the brown ship got up, then took the cabin craft into the air——”
“I fail to see what the brown airplane, and Arthur’s brother, have to do with it,” Barney broke in.
“Mr. Tredway’s brother had to be there to bring down the cabin ‘plane,” Bob explained. “At least that’s the only way I can see for the tracks in the field, and the crack-up, to fit the conditions,” he paused.
“You mean—they exchanged ships? Arthur landed the cabin crate and then flew away in the brown one, while his brother crashed the Silver Flash?” Barney demanded. Tredway nodded as did his brother.
“The young man is correct in his deduction,” the latter said. “I had to come and exchange ships with my brother and then crack up the Silver Flash to give the idea that its pilot—and my brother had taken off in it!—had gone into a mudhole or under rocks in the lake.”
“What did you expect to gain by that?” asked Barney.
“Removing one partner,” Mr. Tredway smiled, “gave the other one ‘a free hand’ if he was in any way guilty, or you, Barney!”
Barney turned red.
“Do you mean to say?——”
“No, I did not suspect you, I only wanted to get away and see what happened, and who did it.”
“These young men have cleared most of us,” stated Mr. Parsons. “They have done more! They know how the good parts are taken and cheap ones are substituted.” He explained about the trucks.
“But we can’t solve the mystery of why you brought books here and then said the company books were all at the plant,” argued Al.
“I found a small set of duplicate books—that is, what we would call ‘fake’ books—private books in the cabinet,” began Mr. Parsons.
Barney bent forward.
“Where did you find those? I had them in my own desk!”
“That’s where I took them from. You see, Barney, as long as we all suspected each other it was wisest for me to check them. Not that I accuse you, because they were in your desk. You were checking up, also, of course.”
“I’m not finished either,” declared Barney. “But—as long as Arthur wanted a look at them, it’s all right with me.”
“We have them safe,” said Curt. “And the brother is the mysterious man with the dark beard whose motorcycle Griff used, and it was he who was in the supply room, the other night.”
“I was,” said Mr. Tredway’s brother. “I came, with his key, got in the private gate, went up the fire escape and down to check up in the supply room—until Griff, running off with my motorcycle, made me suspicious, scared and anxious. So I left.”
“And I came here to see Arthur’s brother,” said Mr. Parsons, and Griff, looking ashamed added, “—and I ran away!”
“But we don’t know who damaged the crates, or if it was against Mr. Tredway or just spite work against the company,” Al said. “The mystery crash has failed to bring that to light.”
“Yes,” Barney suddenly leaned forward, “I’ve got to go, out and dismiss my taxicab—it’s eating its head off—but first I’ll give you a hint to chew over while I’m away.”
“What?” several spoke the question in unison.
“Suppose the motive was revenge,” Barney spoke very low, and Bob, watching some curtains, at a locked side door, thought the breeze must be stirring them, “suppose there was once a pilot at the plant and that Arthur had to fire him and——”
“You don’t mean to say!—” Mr. Tredway bent close, excited. “The pilot I once discharged? Why—he’s the owner of this place. I’d never dream——”
“All the same—chew it over!” Barney rose. “I suppose you’ll be flying back—you won’t stay here tonight.” Tredway shook his head.
“Be right back,” Barney said. Bob, as the others chatted softly and excitedly, followed the departing manager with his eyes. He had thrown suspicion on several, had Barney. Also, he had been the only one who inspected and then reported on the Silver Flash, that nothing had been found tampered with! And—he had chased Lang and Bob to see Bob’s detective father! What a lot of curious facts, Bob mused!
And when Barney rejoined them a moment later Bob was still musing!
“I think it would be a good idea for all of us to stay,” suggested Mr. Parsons. “It’s after midnight, and these lads must be worn out, with all their pedaling to and fro. We can telephone their homes.”
“You may all stay,” said Mr. Tredway. “But until we prove something I shall keep out of sight. Especially if the ex-pilot is apt to be around. I’m going to warm up my brother’s airplane and hop back to the airport I came from.”
They all parted. Curt declared he wanted to secure his forgotten bicycle, Bob and Al were sure they had better go on home if Mr. Parsons would let them take the taxicab. He decided that, after all, he and his son had better go home. The meal was finished. Mr. Tredway, going by a side hall, and down back stairs, sought to avoid recognition while his brother agreed to watch the ex-pilot at every chance.
Bob and Curt found the bicycle safe, and trundled it to the luggage rack at the back of the taxicab.
Then Bob turned suddenly.
“Stay here,” he said, “I want to say something to Mr. Tredway—he’s warming up the airplane.”
“Forget something?”
“No—recalled something!”
As he reached the man so mysteriously lost and so suddenly discovered Bob caught his arm and spoke very earnestly.
“For the sake of your safety,” Bob whispered, “take off, just as you planned—but only go to the cornfield—set down as soon as you can—and then—look for—crossed wires!”
In a flash he was beyond questioning!
Bob did not delay a moment after he delivered his solemn warning to Mr. Tredway.
As quickly as he could he located the plant manager.
“Barney,” he said earnestly, “don’t stay here tonight! Come home with us. Stay with the Sky Squad.”
“In the name of Sam Hill—why?”
“You forgot where you were, didn’t you, when you spoke about the——” he lowered his voice, glanced around, spoke carefully, “—the ex-pilot as the one who had a motive for injuring Mr. Tredway?”
“Well—I guess I was thinking pretty much of what I was saying.”
“I know you were.”
“Well—did you hear anything or—see anything?”
“I’m sure I heard something. You didn’t think, but there’s a curtained door in that private room we used. How do you know Jenks or—the other one—might not have heard you?”
“Lad, you’re quick! Right, too. Maybe I’d better go on. But I won’t need to stay with you.”
“Oh, you’d better. We can take turns watching!”
“Fiddlesticks! It’s not as dangerous for me as that!”
“At least come back in the taxi with us.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll do that. But I’ll go on home, then.”
“Won’t you come on, please—right away?”
Barney, half-amused at Bob’s concern, and partly wondering what caused it and if he actually had been spied on, overheard, and realizing even better than did Bob, he thought, how dangerous such an accusation might be, Barney agreed.
The ride back to town was taken up with discussion of Barney’s hint but through all the talk Bob was rather quiet.
It was decided that the three members of the Sky Squad would be taken home first, then Griff and his father would go on, leaving Barney to finish the ride to his own home.
As the car drew up in front of Bob’s house and Al began saying his goodnight, quite sleepily, Bob turned to Mr. Parsons.
“What do you say to going back to the plant, after you drop Griff, and getting the real set of company books, and bringing them here. We can work on them together, and see if there is anything in the private set that doesn’t agree with the others.”
“Why not wait until morning?” suggested Mr. Parsons. “Aren’t you worn out?”
“What books?” Barney asked. “Oh—that’s so. I remember. You said you had them. Put them away carefully! Don’t leave them out.”
“Oh, we will,” agreed Al, overhearing. “We’ll put them in the big desk in Father’s study and lock them up.”
“Well, goodnight,” said Curt. He had been invited to stay but he preferred to go on home. Bob threw in a suggestion.
“At that,” he said, “Curt, why don’t you let me telephone your mother, and you stay. And Barney could wait with us till Mr. Parsons comes back.”
“Well, come to think of it, why not?” Barney decided. “If it won’t wake up your folks.” Bob assured him it wouldn’t. His mother must still be waiting up, he declared; there was a light burning in his father’s study.
“Good grief!” he cried, “I never thought—supposing Dad has come home?”
“I’ll bet he has,” Al agreed.
“Let’s go and see—will you come in with us?” he addressed Barney, and the latter cordially agreed.
“I guess we’d better let you wait in the living room till we see whether it’s Dad or Mother. She might not be dressed for company—if Mother is sitting up.” Barney agreed to wait, and Al went to the door to call Curt in to telephone home.
The den, into which Bob turned, closing the door quietly, was occupied, as he had all along suspected it would be, by his father.
“I heard that you weren’t in the other city,” Bob said, after a hasty greeting. His father saw his eagerness and let him talk. “Lang flew there to get help—” he sketched very swiftly the incidents of the night. “Now, Father, what brought you home? Have you?——”
“I have suspicions—yes.”
“Then you’ve been working on the mystery?” Bob asked.
“All along. I pretended to be busy on another case because——”
“You suspected somebody!”
“From the start. Yes. Did you?”
“Not until tonight. But I know it’s the same person, and I’ve got him in the living room and I want to pretend to him that we are guarding him from some one else, while we keep guard to see that he doesn’t take fright and escape.”
His father framed a name and Bob nodded.
“What is your proof?” demanded his father.
“He came to a detective at the very first. He has put suspicion on everybody else. He seems terribly anxious about those books.”
“Circumstantial evidence justifying suspicion, but not proof. However—I’ve learned that some people, probably using assumed names—it may all be the same person—have been changing aircraft stock into gold. What is your plan, son?”
“We must keep him from guessing that we suspect—and keep him where we can watch him. The way I plan, if you agree, is this. Father, if he is the guilty one, he is terribly dangerous. He must have crossed wires on Mr. Tredway’s airplane, before the owner left the plant—hoping he’d have a short-circuit, set the gas on fire and come down in flames. Then he thought the Golden Dart was the cabin ship to be flown and he frayed the rudder cable. When he discovered the other ship was going he might have crossed wires on that—remember, he mentioned ‘crossed wires’ back in the other city? And he’s the only one who inspected the Silver Flash when she crashed and was hauled in. So we must keep him here where we can hold him if he makes a move.”
“Right. Get him in, son. We will pretend to study the books, and I will watch his reaction.”
“And if he doesn’t betray himself?——”
“We will let him go. He cannot leave tonight because if he has been taking stock and exchanging it for gold, he probably had to bank it—he wouldn’t leave it in his house, would he, son?”
“We can have detectives watch his house all night. Father, fix it with the Chief of Police while I get him.”
Barney was ushered in, Al and Curt joined them and the three of the Sky Squad lined up on the davenport to watch Barney as the detective discussed the case.
But Barney did not betray any uneasiness. He was clever, Bob decided.
Mr. Parsons, for whom Al watched to let him in without awakening Mrs. Wright, brought other books and they were all busy.
“We’ve discovered something!” Al exclaimed, after half an hour.
“Sky Squad will now report!” chuckled Barney. He turned to Bob.
“Go ahead, Chief Pilot!”
Bob, very serious, nodded.
Was Barney getting fidgety? Or, was he simply eager?
“What have you found?” his father prompted him.
“We’ve solved one mystery—how the bad parts are coming in,” said Bob, confidently. “Curt, bring the false ledger and the real one.”
All heads bent interestedly.
“Notice how those tiny pencil ‘ticks’ are made in the beginning of some entries?” Bob pointed to several. “There aren’t any in the regular ledger, but the entries correspond, and they are always worded in a queer way. See this one, about fabric: ‘10 bolts fabric, cotton, quality A—dash—X—one hundred,’” he quoted. “Now all the entries that are ticked in the false ledger are backward like that—and the same in the regular book, but no others except the ticked ones are!”
“That’s curious,” muttered Barney. “What else?”
“Here are several bills of lading that weren’t entered Saturday, just slipped into the back of the regular ledger,” Bob drew them out and unfolded them. “One is all right, but the other is made out backward—the same as the ticked ones—and it isn’t a real bill of lading at all, because it is dated for today, and the shipment that arrived today isn’t to be delivered until tomorrow and we saw the two trucks exchanging goods on the byroad—or, Curt did.”
“Very clever, but what does it prove?” asked Barney.
“This bill of lading being dated ahead and being one of the ‘backward wording’ sort, shows that those are the entries that are ‘queer.’ That solves the mystery, because we know how those things are being substituted tonight.”
“But who does it incriminate?” asked Barney.
“Why—whoever’s writing matches this.”
“Then the bookkeeper is due for a call on the carpet—maybe worse,” said Barney. “That’s his book, and the false set is the same handwriting!”
“That settles that mystery and leaves only the one about Mr. Tredway’s possible evil wisher,” said Mr. Parsons.
“Why, that’s attended to—all we need to do is to watch that ex-pilot, and Mr. Tredway’s brother has agreed—” Al paused. The den private extension telephone was ringing.
“It’s for you, Bob,” his father said. “Who’d be—oh, Mr. Tredway! How are you? Glad you’re ‘alive and kicking.’ Yes, this is Wright. My son stole a march on me, finding you. Here he is.”
Bob bent over the desk.
“Hello....” he said amid a tense silence. “Oh, did I guess right?... You didn’t go on? ... set down in the cornfield ... fix it in the morning?... Yes. Thank you, sir, for calling. Yes, we just got here.”
He replaced the receiver and turned to the interested, expectant company.
“Another of the puzzles solved, and I guessed rightly,” he said. “Barney, when you suspected the ex-pilot, I thought it might be that he’d do the same as he had done on the airplane I piloted—Mr. Tredway’s own sport craft. You know why I had to set it down?”
“No—because the other man—Arthur—chased you down?”
“No,” said Bob, slowly. “You mentioned the ex-pilot having access to the ‘planes. Well, on the brown ship—the wires were crossed tonight!”
“Oh!” Barney gasped, and recovered from his startled amazement. “You don’t say! That’s bad for—the ex-pilot.”
“But it disposes of one mystery—who! He was probably there at The Windsock and heard you—don’t you suppose?”
“Looks like it. Well, now, that clears up——”
“All but one more puzzle,” said Curt. “Who’s getting away with the small parts, and valuable instruments?”
“I can settle that!” said Barney. “Sandy Jim, the rigger Al was put to work for—remember him sending you to his house with a lot of parcels supposed to contain junk for his kid?” Al nodded, dismayed. It hurt to hear that honest-looking Sandy was so wicked. But Barney seemed to have the correct idea, as the evidence indicated.
“We’ll round them up tomorrow.” Barney rose. “Suppose I take those books along with me? I’ll bring them in early in the morning.”
“Fine!” Bob jumped up, gathering the books. “There’s a Summer shower wetting the streets—I’ll wrap these in paper for you.”
When he returned with the parcel all goodnights had been said and the party broke up.
“Son,” said Mr. Wright to Bob, “what do you think now?”
“I can’t say. He acted all right. But he always has done that.”
“Who?” Al was sleepy but curious.
“Barney!”
“You don’t suspect Barney?”
They nodded.
“But how can you? He has helped us, and he’s Mr. Tredway’s friend and I always thought—er——”
“A criminal had to have a motive?” prompted his father. “I attached no importance to one fact I have discovered, until I felt sure of Barney’s guilt. Now I do. This might be his motive! Years ago Mr. Tredway won the girl whom another pilot was courting. The man went from bad to worse, threatened—and then disappeared.”
“Jealousy! Hate!” gasped Curt. “But Barney!——”
“Of course that was not the pilot’s name. He must have changed his name as well as his appearance.”
“Then, Father, how did you know it’s Barney. How about the ex-pilot? Couldn’t he?——”
“No, Al. He worked for Mr. Tredway after the latter married.”
“Well—then—good cracky! Bob—you gave the culprit all the evidence in those books—to destroy!”
“No!” Bob smiled. “Dad’s encyclopedia is shy four volumes, and there are three vitamine books gone, and Barney has them. The real books are in their places on our shelves!”
Then they did compliment him!
When the sun peered through dispersing Summer storm clouds it saw three alert, wide-awake youths, a little tired but very tense, in the testing field of the Tredway aircraft plant.
With them were Mr. Tredway, the Chief of Police, Mr. Parsons and Griff.
“Is Tredway’s speed plane fueled up,” Mr. Wright came over from the offices where he had deposited the company books in readiness for later use: his question was addressed to Griff.
“Ready, sir,” the young son of Mr. Tredway’s partner responded.
“All plans arranged, Chief?”
“We’ve got a net spread that Barney Horton couldn’t escape if he was an eel. One of my best detectives has been outside his house ever since he went in from the taxi, at one ‘a.m.’ Those two men over by the offices, getting ready to dig a trench, are two picked men of my headquarters staff. Every motorcycle man, every traffic man, all our roundsmen and policemen are on the alert.”