The plane carrying Lamont Cranston hummed over Manhattan, the glare of the city’s lights smothered by the falling rain.
The wind whistled through the fuselage; the air was bumpy as the ship sped on through the increasing storm. Yet the pilot seemed indifferent to the threatening elements. He seemed like a shadow, in the cabin of the plane.
CHAPTER XXIX
HARRY VINCENT FACES DEATH
Harry Vincent opened his eyes, and stared about him. He lay propped against the crude stone wall of the underground cavern. His hands were strapped behind his back. His ankles were also bound. His head still ached from the blow that had rendered him unconscious.
Blair Windsor, also bound, lay a few feet away. There were three other men in the place.
One was Bert Crull; the second was Vernon; the third was the old man whom Harry had seen in the farmhouse.
“He’s come to life,” said Crull, looking at Harry.
“Fine,” came the reply from the old man. “Now we can question him.”
“Shall we wait until Jerry comes back?” asked Crull.