“That’s a good one!” He threw back his head, roaring his mirth. “So I’m the culprit, eh? Ho-ho! Oh, my, that’s rich. Clever Sky Squad you have, Wright! Ha-ha-ha-ho-ho! Here I am doing all I can to help my partner, trying to solve the puzzles he couldn’t untangle—and I’m to be arrested!”
“No one spoke of arrest!” the Police Chief hedged. “Are you sending some one else to get your banked gold?”
“Banked gold?” Barney dropped his jaw as the question was shot at him.
“Converting stock!” snapped Mr. Parsons.
Barney stared and then smiled. “All the stock I ever had is in my safe deposit box—come on! I’ll show you, at the bank.”
They were puzzled. Arthur Tredway was eager to claim that his friend and protege was innocent.
The others were compelled to admit as Bob mentally decided, that Barney’s face, manner and actions were open and honest.
“That’s enough gas,” said the rigger. “Now, Al, fill her up with oil—I want to see Mr. Tredway.” He descended from the aircraft, went to his employer and with many protestations of delight gripped his hand.
“See here,” he urged, “Mr. Tredway, this crate they’re fueling is in a big rush. I have to make adjustments for balance before she is delivered. Can’t you take her up?”
“Why not?” Mr. Tredway was anxious to get into action since he had agreed to “return to life.”