“We have them safe,” said Curt. “And the brother is the mysterious man with the dark beard whose motorcycle Griff used, and it was he who was in the supply room, the other night.”
“I was,” said Mr. Tredway’s brother. “I came, with his key, got in the private gate, went up the fire escape and down to check up in the supply room—until Griff, running off with my motorcycle, made me suspicious, scared and anxious. So I left.”
“And I came here to see Arthur’s brother,” said Mr. Parsons, and Griff, looking ashamed added, “—and I ran away!”
“But we don’t know who damaged the crates, or if it was against Mr. Tredway or just spite work against the company,” Al said. “The mystery crash has failed to bring that to light.”
“Yes,” Barney suddenly leaned forward, “I’ve got to go, out and dismiss my taxicab—it’s eating its head off—but first I’ll give you a hint to chew over while I’m away.”
“What?” several spoke the question in unison.
“Suppose the motive was revenge,” Barney spoke very low, and Bob, watching some curtains, at a locked side door, thought the breeze must be stirring them, “suppose there was once a pilot at the plant and that Arthur had to fire him and——”
“You don’t mean to say!—” Mr. Tredway bent close, excited. “The pilot I once discharged? Why—he’s the owner of this place. I’d never dream——”
“All the same—chew it over!” Barney rose. “I suppose you’ll be flying back—you won’t stay here tonight.” Tredway shook his head.
“Be right back,” Barney said. Bob, as the others chatted softly and excitedly, followed the departing manager with his eyes. He had thrown suspicion on several, had Barney. Also, he had been the only one who inspected and then reported on the Silver Flash, that nothing had been found tampered with! And—he had chased Lang and Bob to see Bob’s detective father! What a lot of curious facts, Bob mused!