That was all he wanted to know. Hurriedly he secured a taxi and broke the speed laws in a mad dash for the Field. Arousing a couple of the best men, he opened the hangar where the dirigible, once more fit for any flight, swung lazily.
The men manoeuvered it into the open, O’Brien selected the two whom he wanted, and almost before they realized what they were doing, the big car rose into the inky blackness of the morning sky. O’Brien, at the wheel, steered a straight course for the hiding place of the dirigible Smith intended to use.
There was a glow in the sky as they approached, and as they paused over the field, they looked down on a burning mass of tumbled timbers that had been the hangar. O’Brien would have liked to know whether the dirigible had sailed up in the sky or gone up in smoke. He sped on, however, reaching Barnegat as the first streaks of day showed in the east.
There the hangar doors swung open; the dirigible had gone. O’Brien straightened up and gave a quick glance over his big car. He knew that it was in the pink of condition, and his heart was glad, for he knew that the chase was on; a chase possibly to the death.
Somewhere ahead of him, out over the waste of waters that tossed and tumbled far below, the dirigible carrying Mr. Ridgeway, Lawrence, the state papers and the crown jewels, sailed swiftly. And behind it, instead of the guardian dirigible from their own Field and driven by O’Brien, another machine followed—a machine its very twin in looks and speed, but bearing a cutthroat crew.
O’Brien pressed a lever, shoving it far to the front, and the big machine answered with a burst of speed. His men, moving carefully about, were looking over every nut and screw and brake, and finding all in perfect condition.
O’Brien wondered how much of a start the other cars had. He did not think that he was far behind, so he settled to a good rate, and kept it, as mile after mile was left behind.
As the sun came up O’Brien was more and more conscious of an intense fatigue. Finally deciding that he would be needed most at the close of the race, he called one of his men, and directing him to keep up the speed and the direction indicated, he went back, and lying down on the floor of the tiny cabin went instantly to sleep. His jaw was sore, and every muscle ached. In his sleep he twitched and tossed and muttered so that one of the men covered him with his own sheepskin coat, and at last he quieted down until the lines in his face smoothed out and he relaxed.
“It would be worth listening to, to hear what O’Brien has been doing these last few hours,” said one of the airmen as they watched their chief.
“Some scrap, I’ll bet!” said the other. “See his face? No bruises like a blow, but those two red welts stretching out from each corner of his mouth. I never saw that but once before, and that was on a man who had been gagged all night.”