Finally Captain Folsom took off the headpiece and, seeing that Jack had done likewise, turned to him with an air of exasperation.
“This is maddening,” he declared to Jack. “Evidently, if I know anything about it, the smugglers are landing liquor somewhere along the coast by means of a radio-controlled boat or boats.”
Jack was thoughtful.
“Do you know what I think?” he asked. “I believe they are landing the liquor somewhere near us. For one thing, the sounds in the receivers are very clear and distinct. That, however, does not portend a great deal. The night is exceptionally good for sending, clear and with practically no static. But there is another thing to be considered, and it’s that I have in mind.”
“What do you mean?” asked Captain Folsom.
“I am thinking of the attempt to destroy the airplane, and the probable reason for it.”
“Hm.”
“You see,” continued Jack, “if the smugglers planned to operate to-night, and were made fearful by recent events that we either had learned anything about them or suspected them, they might decide it would be unwise to have us at large, so to speak. Suppose we were to swoop down on them in our airplane, they might think, what then? This man Higginbotham, 87 now. He might not have been deceived by our explanation of how we came to be on hand when he was flying in his radio-controlled plane and fell into the water. Besides, and this is the biggest point of all, we had appeared at his office to try and find out who had bought the Brownell property. Oh, the more I consider it, the more I realize that he could not help but suspect that we were on the track of the liquor smugglers.”
Captain Folsom nodded.
“Sound sense, all of it,” he declared; “especially, your deduction that they are landing liquor near us. Look here,” he added, with sudden resolution; “where does that man, Tom Barnum, sleep?”