They came at last to the crest of the ledge hanging over the spot where the jet plane rested on the rock beside the sea. Since the surface of the ledge sloped, it was possible for them to remain some thirty feet from the brink of the hundred-foot drop and still see the plane.
Jack would have walked to the brink of the cliff for a clearer view, but Mary pulled him back.
“Wait!” she whispered. “It is still light. If that man is down there he may see you. You’d stand out against the sky. Sit down here. We’ll watch to see if anything moves down there. There’s a steep path round this ledge. We can reach the jet plane in two minutes.” She pulled him to a seat beside her.
“There’s no one down there,” Jack said in a low voice after half a minute of silence. “This is my chance. We might as well go down.”
“No! Wait!” the girl insisted.
A minute passed—two—three minutes. Jack was restless. Darkness was throwing thin shadows over the plane, half hiding it.
He rose and walked almost to the brink of the cliff and stood there staring down.
“There’s no one,” he called softly without turning. “We’ll go down.”
At that instant a bulky figure shot past the girl and straight at Jack. Only the girl’s quick, piercing scream saved the young flier. Turning quickly, Jack threw out his arms to meet the man head on and to bring him crashing to earth close to the brink.
Realizing his perilous position, Jack fought desperately. He was no mean fighter.