Chapter XIV
BILL BLOWS UP
Clocks in New Canaan were striking seven next evening when Bill turned the switch on the Loening’s instrument board which released the retractable landing gear of the plane. Five or six seconds later he spiralled down on the level field back of the Bolton place, and taxied toward the hangar.
Wheelblocks in hand, he was climbing out of the cockpit when a man ran up from the direction of the Bolton garage.
“Evening, Master Bill,” he greeted. “Glad to see you back again.”
“Hello, Frank! I’m glad to get home myself, even though I won’t be staying long. Has my father returned home from Washington?”
“No sir. That is, he ain’t back in New Canaan.”
“After I get something to eat, I’m taking the Buick down to Stamford. It may be that I’ll come back tonight, but if not, I’ll need the Loening tomorrow.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll fill her and give her a thorough looking over. Some doin’s there were here the night you left. By the time I waked up and got the cops on the phone, them guys had beat it. There was a wrecked car what had run into a rope, stretched out yonder, but they’d took the license plates with ’em. The cops think they can trace the car, though.”
“Well, that won’t get them anywhere. I’ll bet a hat the car was stolen. Anyway, I know who the men were. I’ve got a date with one of them tonight.”
“Is that so, sir? Better let me go with you, sir!” Frank was all eagerness. “There’s them what says I ain’t so worse in a scrap.”