“The man made some threat to Dobbs,” went on Dennis. “Anyhow, up went the biplane. Then, as the fellow dropped into the cockpit, I heard him yell, ‘West—straight west.’”
“You did?” spoke Dave, questioningly. “That’s a point,” and he made a dash for the hangar. The officers were, indeed, “flabbergasted.” They stood like dummies, dismayed and at a loss as to further action. Dave ran the Ariel out into the field.
“Officer,” he called to the policeman who seemed most to direct affairs, “that man—who is he?”
“Reddy Marsh, the slickest diamond thief in America,” came the response.
“And he’s got a load of the sparklers in his coat right now,” added the other officer. “Padded brick, smashed a lighted show-window in a jewelry store and off he was with a case, with stones in it worth fifty thousand dollars. We thought we’d run him down when he made for the fence.”
“Yes,” put in the other policeman, who was staring overhead in a lost, puzzled way, “and it won’t be a question of hundreds, but of thousands to the person who gets him and his booty.”
“I’m not thinking of that,” said Dave in an anxious way, “but of my friend. He’s clear grit, but the man is armed. Officer, I’m going aloft. If the Scout hasn’t got too far away, I may catch sight of it. I may need protection; assistance. One of you come with me.”
“Hey!” exclaimed the head officer—“you mean in that airship?”
“It’s the only way, isn’t it?” propounded Dave.
“I’ll go,” spoke up the other officer. “This lad must know his business or he wouldn’t be here. It’s in my line of duty—besides, there may be glory in it, and a reward. Go ahead!”