“Look!” Dave pointed to a dark spot in the brightly lighted meadow. “See that black hole? What stood there two hours ago?”
“Say!” Brand stared. “A stone building stood there.”
“But then,” he added after a thought, “what does it matter? It was just an empty old out building.”
“I’m not so sure it was empty,” Dave replied soberly. “Last time I looked at that building a man and a dog were going through the door. That was less than two minutes before the first blast. There,” his was a dramatic gesture, “question is, where’s the man? If he is at all any more.”
“Stop talking in riddles,” Brand’s voice rose. “This has been a bad night.”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you,” Dave invited as he dropped to a place on the well-worn door sill.
The story of his visit to the top of the tower both astonished and thrilled his companion.
“And the fellow who went into that shack,” Dave added with a flourish of his arm, “was none other than the assistant to old John, the shoemaker. What’s more, his real name is Nicholas Schlitz.”
“No!” Brand sprang to his feet. “It can’t be!”
“It is!” Dave insisted. “Remember that picture you took from the wrecked plane? The picture of two young fellows?”