"The orchestra!" Puffy was muttering. "They ain't! They're Lardner's gunmen! Lardner's on board!" He babbled on.
"Wait a minute!" Drake was wide awake now. He helped Adams into the berth, holding a warning finger over his lips. "Now," he said firmly, "one thing at a time."
"Those punks that called themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. They got a plane full of tommy guns. They can't play but one tune on those."
Drake's eyes narrowed.
"How did you find out?"
"I couldn't sleep," Puffy said. "Went up front to get a glass of water and find that pretty hostess to keep me company."
"So?"
Puffy gulped.
"So she isn't aboard the plane. We landed somewhere last night right after we took off. I didn't think nothin' of it. Ain't used to these airplanes. Well, when I was up front I heard two of these punks talkin' in their berths."
He opened the curtain slightly and looked both ways along the narrow aisle.