“I don’t understand it, Dad. From what Bob says, she was working first class, every part of her, right up to the minute that he discovered she was ablaze. If a single part had gone wrong she would have showed it by the indicators or in the reaction of the controls. I do not believe that the Kid would have missed anything. Lots of times he’s quicker to locate pending grief than I am,” the boy replied softly.
“Have you any suspicions?”
“Not one. He said, that as far as he knows while she was parked in Crofton, no one came near her, and she flew like a charm all the way.”
“Sure there isn’t some technical solution to the mystery?”
“If there is, I don’t know it. I thought of writing to the manufacturers, and stating the facts, and see if they have any suggestions,” Jim answered.
“Could someone have put something inflammable somewhere around the tail assembly, something arranged to burn slowly?” the man suggested.
“I’ve thought of that, Dad. But there isn’t anyone in the state, outside of jail, who would be revengeful enough to do it. The men who were given the shortest sentences in that trial after the attack at Don Haurea’s last summer still have over a year to serve—none of them—that I know of—have been pardoned.”
“If any of them were I am sure the sheriff would have told us,” Mr. Austin volunteered.
“Yes, he would. It’s a cinch, Dad, that not more than one or two of that whole gang who were sent to prison know enough about airplanes and flying to set a trap that would go off like that. An amateur would have started the fire and let her go any old way. If the thing was a piece of treachery it was managed by an air man who didn’t take any chance of his plot being discovered too soon. I can’t figure out that anyone is guilty of such a mean trick, but I don’t know how else it could have been done.” With a sigh he turned back to the room and sat by his father’s desk.
“You are going to miss it a great deal.”