“We will see a little later,” Chick stated. “His ’plane comes in after awhile.”
“Don’t forget,” Don argued, “that a man clever enough to do all the things we have seen done is bright enough to have somebody else fly his mail close to this airport, set down, and let Smith take it over and bring it in. For money, and with a man far enough away, it would be possible—and we could never check it up.”
“He’s still in that swamp, close by,” Don argued. “He is as brazen as they come, too!” Chick wondered audibly why Don had not flown straight up “to catch the man.”
“Alone?” Garry defended Don from a hint of caution. “Don did the right thing, coming back here. The stores haven’t reported a call for spare carburetor parts. The man is clever.”
“Maybe he got spare parts at Bennett Field, or Roosevelt Field,” Chick suggested.
Don held up a hand and shook his head.
“It isn’t important, just now,” Don declared. “Let’s make sure how the picture was thrown, tonight, while I flew around. Then we can work out why there is this extra projector head and a misfit airplane crash picture afterward, and about the carburetor.”
“Well, if you looked around, you must have seen the crate that the ‘ghost’ used,” Chick inferred.
“But I didn’t.”
They knew that he had not been careless: had a ship been in sight his sharp eyes, looking for just that, would have noted it.