"Note f'r you, sir."
Norton read it and tore it into little pieces. Then he rose and distributed the pieces in the several yawning waste baskets which strewed the aisle leading to the city desk.
"I'm not wanted for anything?" he asked.
"No. Clear out!" laughed the night city editor. "The sight of you is putting everybody in the gloom ward."
Norton went down to the street. At the left of the entrance he was quietly joined by a man whose arm was carried in a sling. He motioned Norton to get into the taxicab. They were dropped in a deserted spot in Riverdale. On foot they went forward to their destination, which proved to be the deserted hangar of the aviator, William Orts.
"I want you to tell Jones that a tub and several divers are at work on the spot where he threw the chest. That's all. Now, doctor, rewind this arm of mine."
The amateur surgeon made a very good job of it; not for nothing had he followed fighting armies to the front.
"Did they find anything?"
"Not up to date. But we might if we cared to. They have left a buoy over the spot they're exploring. But just now it floats a quarter of a mile to the east of the spot."
"Who were the men in the motor boat that chased Jones?"