“Too true,” agreed Bob.
Presently the “Lark” was again in the air, but no “pockets or bumps” interfered with her flight when she leveled off, her nose pointed toward the De Castro home, and she rushed swiftly to the music of singing engine and whistling wind. The boys were perfectly satisfied with their morning adventure, but when they lighted on the runway, they saw Carlos waiting for them on the piazza.
“My father was getting distressed,” he told them soberly.
“Sorry we over-stayed,” Jim apologized.
“You are not so very much behind time, but there is some surprising news. Will you join us as you are? It’s quite all right if you care to do so.”
“We’ll get there more quickly,” Bob answered, so they hurried to the cool breakfast room off the portico, where they found Senor de Castro pacing the floor.
“I beg your pardon, sir—” Jim began.
“That’s all right, my boy, breakfast is a movable feast. Did my son tell you the news?”
“No sir.”
“Well, the man you call Ollie was found late last night. He had been beaten and his skull crushed to a pulp. He is dead.”