Philip frowned and shook his head.
"Yesterday noon," he said slowly, "I took the eight-passenger Airline Express to Cleveland on business. There were three other passengers in the cabin—two men and a woman. Right away I got out a correspondence file and was running over some letters. The next thing I knew I was approaching the ground in the strangest state of mind I ever experienced. My head was splitting, and everything looked unreal to me. Seemed as if I was coming down on some new planet."
"You mean the ship was gliding down to land?"
"No, no. I was dangling from a parachute.... By the way, where am I now?"
"In a Munson Avenue loft."
"In Chicago?"
Burke nodded.
"I guessed as much," frowned Philip. "You see, I came down in a field, and then before I could free myself from my trappings I was pounced on—trussed up and blindfolded—by a gang of men. I knew they had taken me a long distance by automobile, but I saw nothing more until they tore the blindfold from my eyes when they left me here."
"And they were all strangers to you?"
"Yes—those that I saw."