Tide-drifted, flare in hand, Garry floated toward the Demon’s Lair.
CHAPTER XVI
CHICK TRACES THE TRACING
Seemingly unaware that Chick dogged his steps, the control room chief, whose initials, J. V., had proved the baffling tracing to be his property, went from the runways to his tower quarters.
Doc Morgan, following Chick, appeared at the door to the control room a minute after the youth had seated himself unobtrusively, in a chair in a dark corner.
“You might as well go home,” the control room chief dismissed his assistant who turned from an observation window where he had stood scanning the sky, and taking his hat, said “Goodnight.” His chief, paying no attention to Doc as the latter lounged in the doorway, walked to the windows and glanced in several directions towards the heavens.
Chick sat quite still. Doc knew he was there, he saw; but Doc was evidently interested in his own thoughts, and, beyond giving Chick a pleasant wink, ignored his presence.
Vance, the control chief, assured himself that there was no immediate need for his services for landing ships. He adjusted several switches to leave the essential lighting of approaches going against Don’s return, and then walked over to the radio table in one corner.
Chick, watching, saw that the man’s thoughts were far away from duty.
Watching unobtrusively, he saw Vance lean his head on the hand supported by an elbow on the table.
Doc, still lounging, seemed forgotten, and appeared to be satisfied.