With the flying lights snapping on and off, Don spelt out a signal to Chick as he held the Dart in a tight, banked circle.
No response came, the control tower remained unresponsive. Its pilot signal beam, a small spot, did not flicker on and off to spell the “O. K.” Don expected from his watching chum.
Chick, as a matter of fact, was otherwise occupied.
“Let’s set down,” Garry suggested. “The Demon will probably wait, hoping we will go over again and see his lure. He must have meant us harm or he wouldn’t have set those rockets to strike the Dragonfly.”
Don, flashing the “must land” signal of distress with his blinking flying lights, got no response: he decided to risk approach without the signal, and finally tumbled out of the Dart with Garry already on the ground.
Leaving the Dart idling, slipping chocks under the wheels, Don and Garry hastened into the big main hangar.
It was empty, echoing, deserted.
So, too, they found the upper offices.
“There has been an awful ‘shindy’ in the designing department,” Garry whispered, training his finger, at the door, after flashing on the office lights. “Somebody has tried to break into the locked cabinets, and there is a wastebasket turned over and a chair upset. There must have been a fight in there.”
Don, looking, agreed.