That night an alarm of fire, red glow, yellow and red flames, and suffocating smoke, terrified everyone.
Tracing the smoke to the galley, Mr. Everdail was astounded to find Dick and Larry struggling with a man in pajamas—he had rushed in, had seen—too late—the red flares, colored fire powder and smoke pots that burned in buckets, and had been unable to disguise the fact that he had dragged two ice trays from the refrigerator. They contained—green ice!
“As I live and breathe!” cried Mr. Everdail, inspecting a tray.
Quickly overpowered, their captive confessed. The chef had taken the emeralds from the life preserver and frozen them in ice cubes of a deep emerald-green dye. These he easily preserved during the short times the trays were needed for other cubes, by putting them into one of the deep vegetable trays used in the refrigerating system.
That was how the chums were misled the night of Sandy’s birthday party. The trays had been emptied when they looked, and because the trays had just been used for tinted ice and were logically empty, they were fooled.
“But I was a coward—my conscience bothered me,” the chef admitted. “I wanted to return ’em, I wanted to take ’em. So, now—I’m glad I only kept them for you!”
“Well, Sky Patrol,” said Jeff as the boys pocketed their reward checks, “the sole of that-there right foot of mine itches. That means I’m to go into a new business and prosper—with the help of my Sky Patrol and Ground Crew. How about it?”
“Drop a signal flare,” urged Sandy. “We’ll come a-flying!”
And that was settled!