“What’s clicking in the old bean?” Ralph asked as they stood beside the Pullman.
“Just a wild hunch,” said Tim, “and I don’t want to be laughed at if it goes wrong. That’s why I’m keeping it under my hat. If there is anything to it, you’ll be the first to find out. And say, while I’m away, beg a plane off Carl Hunter and have it ready when I return. We may need a ship in a hurry. We’ve done plenty of favors for Carl and he’ll be glad to help us out.”
“I’ll have a ship ready before you’re back,” promised Ralph as Tim swung up on the steps of the slowly moving train. “Good luck.”
The limited picked up speed and its tail lights vanished as Ralph stood on the platform, wondering what queer mission had taken Tim east so suddenly.
Thirty-six hours after leaving Atkinson Tim awoke to find his train pulling into the outskirts of New York. The steam locomotive was uncoupled from the long string of Pullmans and an electric engine took its place at the head of the train for the few remaining miles into the heart of the city. The train picked up speed rapidly and rolled steadily into Manhattan, hesitating only a moment before it plunged into the darkness of the tunnel under the river. Then they were in the great terminal, where trains were arriving or departing continuously throughout the day.
Tim went to a hotel the managing editor had recommended and after leaving his traveling bag set forth in quest of the information which he felt would result in the apprehension of Shanghai Sam and Pierre Petard and put an end to the series of crimes which they had carried out successfully in the middle west.
The flying reporter’s first call was at the office of the largest aircraft manufacturer in the United States. After some insistence he was admitted to the office of Herman Bauer, the chief designer, a quiet, gray-haired man. In a few words Tim explained his mission.
“I’m glad you came to us,” said Bauer. “I’ve been reading of these robberies and once or twice the stories have mentioned how completely the bandits disappear and that the only marks they leave behind are those parallel lines in small clearings.”
“Then you’ve guessed what they must be using?” asked Tim eagerly.
“Yes,” assented Bauer, “but I’m afraid I can’t help you much more than to say that I believe you’re on the right track. Our company doesn’t go in for that sort of thing and if we did we’d have to have assurance that the machine would be used legally.”