When the boys reached the wreck the aviator who had driven the machine lay on the ground, a dozen or more feet away from the seat he had occupied. He appeared to be quite dead. The body had the appearance of having fallen free of the machine some distance up in the air and crushed down upon the soft grass of the valley.
Ben stooped over the still figure for a moment and then turned to his chums with a queer look on his face.
“Do you remember the heavy man in brown who stood in the corridor at the door of Colleton’s room?” he asked.
“We certainly do!” answered Jimmie. “I’ve been thinking about that husky man in brown ever since Mr. Havens told us the story.”
“What brings that to your mind now?” asked Carl.
“Look at this body!” answered Ben. “Look at the heavily-bearded face. Look at the brown suit. Look at the refined and yet business-like makeup of the man. Even in death he seems domineering and forceful.”
“That man was no aviator!” Jimmie exclaimed.
“His handling of the machine showed that!” Carl put in.
“And do you think?” asked Jimmie in a moment, “that——”
The boy was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Englishman, who came out of the darkness with his hands pushed far into his pockets and his teeth rattling with the cold. The boys stepped aside as he drew near the body on the ground and waited for him to speak.