“You up, old man? Thought I heard voices. Anything the matter?”
“Yes, there is,” replied Jack, going to the communicating door. “Tom Barnum, the mechanic-watchman in charge of our radio plant, which isn’t far from the Temples’ airplane hangar, says the latter is afire. Frank and Bob already are on the way down, and stopped to warn me.”
“Afire?” cried Captain Folsom, leaping from his bed, and reaching for his trousers. “That’s bad. Just when we need the airplane, too, to spy on these rascals. Half a minute, old man, and I’ll be with you. Not so devilish easy to get into trousers with one arm.”
“Can I help you?” proffered Jack. “I’m all fixed. Here, let me lace your shoes.”
“Well, if you insist,” said Captain Folsom.
As Jack deftly laced up the other’s shoes, he said in an anxious tone:
“Do you think, sir, those people set the fire? It would be a catastrophe if the plane burned just at this particular time, wouldn’t it? There. All ready.”
“Mighty good of you,” said Captain Folsom. “Lead on, then, and I’ll follow. As to the fire, I’ll reserve 79 opinion until I get the facts. But these liquor smugglers are unscrupulous, and if they feared the airplane was being used against them, they would have no compunctions about burning it.”
From the side of the house on which their rooms were located, Jack and his guest were unable to see anything of the fire, as the hangar lay in an opposite direction. But the moment they emerged outdoors, the blaze showed dully against the sky above an intervening grove of trees.
Without wasting breath in further speculation, Jack and Captain Folsom started running for the scene. The hangar stood a considerable distance away, and so fast had they covered the ground that they arrived pretty well blown.