Jack gravely shook hands with the diligent worker, and obligingly fed him a little cock-and-bull story, giving the names he and Perk had recently taken upon themselves, and merely stating they were from Texas, bound to Atlanta on private business connected with aviation circles. He did this to quiet the news gatherer, until they could dispose of their ship, and get started for the hotel in a taxi to be hired near by.
Jack knew the breed to a dot, and felt confident the lively chap would fill in enough imaginary details to make an interesting account; so that was that, and he was at liberty to turn to the one in authority with whom arrangements could be made for parking the big Fokker in a convenient hangar at so much per diem.
Of course wise Jack had seen to it that never the slightest clue could be discovered by the shrewdest spy, to indicate what these air travelers really had in view—he was quite willing that such a sneaky investigator examine the ship from one end to the other, and welcome—the gravest danger of discovery would lie in some indiscreet remark on the part of Perk; but even this did not give Jack any considerable worry.
They were soon on their way into the heart of wide-awake, bustling Atlanta, and presently brought up at the noted hostelry, to which they had been directed to proceed.
Jack, after dismissing the taxi, followed the hotel attendant who had seized upon the two bags they had with them. He registered without ostentation; and no sooner had the clerk taken a look at their names, when about to assign them a double room on the third floor, than he remarked casually:
“A letter waiting for you, Mr. Warrington,” and after shuffling a pack of envelopes swiftly, he handed Jack a registered letter, bearing the Washington postmark across the stamps.
Jack carefully deposited the same in an inner pocket; then a minute later they both followed a bellboy into the elevator and ascended.
When finally they found themselves behind a closed door Perk turned an eager face upon his comrade, as he remarked in a low tone, with a nervous look all around, as though half expecting to discover some eavesdropper peeping out from a closet, or from behind an easy-chair:
“She kim okay, seems like, Ja—er Mr. Warrington—then things they’re keepin’ on the move, an’ we’re a step closer to aour field o’ operations than when we started aout, eh, what, suh?”
“Lock the door, brother—I’m going to get busy decoding this letter, after which you’ll know everything. Now settle down in that chair, and give me ten minutes of time for the job—possibly a bit more, since I see it’s rather a long communication.”