At the beginning of the second act two men came in and took the seats just behind them. As they fumbled for the hat-clips under the seats and leaned close to O’Brien’s broad shoulders, Lawrence heard one say to the other, “Did you bring the key to the hangar?” and the other answered swiftly, “No; Mr. Smith took it.”
Lawrence felt his blood stop in its course. For a moment he could scarcely breathe. Two of the mysterious men were behind them! He dared not say much to O’Brien, but he whispered, as the orchestra blared out a jazz accompaniment to a dancer: “See who is behind you?”
O’Brien turned. To Lawrence’s utter amazement, he nodded gaily and said, “Good evenin’, Brown! A good show, I’m thinkin’.”
“It seems to be, Mr. O’Brien,” said the slow, deep voice Lawrence so well remembered.
The boy’s head whirled. O’Brien knew the man!
Between the acts, in the intermission, Lawrence led the way out to the sidewalk. He was shaking.
“Those men!” he managed to stutter. “Those men behind us! They were in that card game!”
“Crazy!” said O’Brien calmly. “The big one works at the Aviation Field. He’s a good worker, but mortal stupid.”
“Oh, believe me, O’Brien!” begged Lawrence. “I know them both. They were sitting so I could see their shapes, and just now I heard the big one ask the other if he had the key to the hangar, and he said, no, Smith had it.”
“Why, I know the man,” insisted O’Brien again. “He don’t know enough to be in a plot.”