Back in the galley, cleaning up the remains of the lunch, Vicki couldn’t get her mind free of the shabby old man.
Promptly on schedule, Captain March circled his plane over Tampa and landed.
The mysterious Mr. Jones was the first person to get off when the ground crew pushed the landing ramp up to the door. He spoke briefly to one of the crewmen on the ground, and the two of them stepped around to the tail of the plane, next to the baggage-compartment door.
Then Vicki saw the rest of her passengers off the ship and said good-by to each one as he was leaving.
“I hope you had a pleasant trip, Mrs. Peterson. Ride with us again, Mr. Levin. Good-by, Mr. Harper.”
She saw old Mr. Tytell coming toward her, still clutching his battered violin case. Close behind him was Mr. Eaton-Smith.
“Good-by, sir. Have a pleasant stay in Tampa.”
“Good— good-by, Miss Barr.” He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment in the direction of his seat, and when his eyes returned to Vicki they held an odd, hopeless look. “Thank you again.”
Behind him, Mr. Eaton-Smith was visibly impatient at the delay. He brushed against the old violinist’s shoulder, and Mr. Tytell, feeling the slight pressure, lowered his head and seemed almost to scurry through the exit door.
Speaking mechanically to the other passengers as they left, Vicki kept an eye on the tired old man as he went down the ramp and across the apron, Mr. Eaton-Smith following at his elbow. She wondered who was going to meet Amos Tytell. But he walked straight on through a group of people who were obviously waiting to greet incoming friends and was soon swallowed up in the crowd.