And then, even as he abandoned hope, the silken umbrella cracked open.
Perspiration oozed from Flash’s forehead. Joe Wells laughed aloud, so great was his relief.
The danger, however, was not entirely over. As Flash took a picture of the great umbrella drifting downward, he noted that it was falling at a rapid rate toward the sea. For a time it appeared that Brooks would strike the water with great force.
But the aviator began to pull on the risers, and succeeded in working away from the shore. He landed in a plowed field some distance away. The wind billowed the ’chute, dragging him for a few feet. Brooks then skilfully pulled on the underside risers and the big umbrella flattened out.
“He’s safe,” observed Wells, taking a deep breath. “I hope he makes a fortune. A jump like that is worth it.”
The two photographers began to pack their cameras into carrying cases.
“By the way, what did you start to tell me about Albert Povy?” Flash inquired curiously.
“He was supposed to have been mixed up in shady espionage business a few months ago. I understand government operatives have kept a sharp eye on him.”
“And now he seems to be interested in Brooks’ parachute?”
“It looks that way. If Brooks has any sense he’ll steer clear of the fellow. Suppose we get down there, Flash.”