Together they began the dangerous descent. By the time they reached the base of the cliff, Bailey Brooks had walked back from the field, and was receiving the congratulations of the News-Vue men.
As Flash and Joe added their praise, a tall, dark stranger crossed the open space to the sound truck.
“A beautiful jump, Mr. Brooks,” he praised. “You remember me, don’t you? My name is Povy—Albert Povy.”
“Yes, I remember you very well,” the jumper replied dryly. “Did I demonstrate what my ’chute could do?”
“You certainly did,” the man returned heartily. “It was amazing! I never would have believed it possible, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes. You know, we may be able to do business together, after all.”
A guarded expression came into Bailey Brooks’ steel gray eyes.
“I’m open to propositions,” he said.
“Come over to my car,” invited Albert Povy. “We’ll talk.”
Flash and Joe Wells were closed out of the conversation. Swiftly the News-Vue men loaded their equipment aboard the truck and prepared to leave.
“Listen, Flash,” said Joe as he climbed into the sound truck. “When you’re through at the Ledger this afternoon, drop around at the News-Vue offices. I want to talk with you.”