“‘Don’t know,’ I said.
“‘Well, you’d better,’ one of them yelled. ‘This is a Federal prison. Move out of here quick!’
“‘Guess we’d better leave right away.’ That’s what my fare said to me.”
The aviator paused for breath. Johnny was staring.
“Wait! That’s not all!” The aviator waved a hand. “The lights came on, bright as day, just long enough for me to taxi across the enclosure and rise; then all went dark.
“And listen!” He paused once more. “When my fare left the plane, there was a man with him, a slim, dark-faced man. He came from that prison. I’d swear to it! Can you beat that?”
“Looks like a jail delivery.” Johnny spoke low. “Should think you’d be afraid!”
“I would,” the aviator settled back in his chair, “only the man who went with me that night, my passenger, was one of the best known and most highly respected citizens in this part of the country. I was hired by him.”
“Slim, dark-faced man,” Johnny murmured to himself, recalling the aviator’s words as he rode home a short time later.