“I located the sheriff and explained what had happened,” he said. “Everything will be taken care of. A party will leave at once to hunt for McDowell so we might as well go on back to Atkinson.”
Tim pulled the Jupiter into the air just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. The earth below was shrouded in the half-light of early evening as they roared steadily along at 2,500 feet and some of the strain which had gripped him during the afternoon slipped from his weary shoulders.
The mantle shrouding the earth deepened. Stars came out overhead and he switched on the wing lights. A crimson patch on the eastern horizon indicated where the moon was struggling upward. Clusters of lights passed beneath them and occasionally the streaking lights of a car could be seen. It was restful up there away from the earthy smells.
An hour slipped by and the lights of Atkinson glowed ahead. The airport was outlined in the red, green and white lights that marked its boundaries and indicated to an incoming pilot the runaways. Smoothly, easily, Tim dropped the Jupiter down and the swift biplane rolled up to the ramp near the administration building. Tim blinked in the glare of the bright electrics.
A familiar figure loomed out of the glare. It was Ralph, a bandage around his head, but able to move under his own power.
“Where’s McDowell?” asked Ralph. “Did he get away?”
Tim looked at Prentiss. The inspector spoke slowly.
“No, he didn’t get away,” he said as Tommy Larkin joined the group. “His ship started breaking up and he went over the side in his chute. The chute didn’t open.”
“Didn’t what?” asked Tommy incredulously.
“Someone had ripped it open with a knife.”