“So it was you, Greasy Thumb, and your gang!” “The Ferret” said, after receiving the good news. “It was you, and not the radicals, who robbed the Air Mail! And I haven’t the least doubt that it was your money the dead Spy gripped in his hand! Blood money for betraying my boy!
“Oh, you’ll get your due now! We’ll have you before an honest judge. And the world will not see you again until your hair is white.”
Once more he lapsed into silence.
And so, before a great fire, they spent the night, until dawn and a strong power boat came together to light the waters and to bear guards and prisoners back to the city.
* * * * * * * *
Evening of that day found three people standing before the cabin that had known love and hate, life and death. There was a gray haired man and a boy. And between them a slim, dark-eyed girl. Johnny, Joyce and Newton Mills.
Having recovered from his injuries, save for a scalp wound that would soon heal, the veteran detective had told, amid laughter and tears, how he had concealed his identity under a gray coat and whiskers so that he might better play the part of protector to his young friend, Johnny.
The affair in the tunnel had been a high spot. He it had been who had warned Johnny and saved him from drowning.
The affair of the glider among the clouds was merely the result of a freak of fancy.
He had come alone to the north woods and had arrived just in time to save the boy from the murderous assault of the Spy.