“In the first place, the airplane was carefully hidden. No one at the airport would know anything about it. In the second place, I can’t see how it could link in with the crash——”
“Unless its pilot was higher than Mr. Tredway, and flew over him and forced him down—” Al was excited at his deduction. He felt puffed up.
“We would have seen him,” objected Curt, crushing Al’s inflated vanity.
“By the way,” Bob broke in, “let’s talk about something else. If Barney sent you for information, that’s that. Never mind what we think. What I want to do is to get a line on that fellow named Griff—Griff Parsons.”
“Why?” Lang swung in his seat, catching the shift of the crate with almost automatic movements of stick and rudder bar. “What about him?”
“He’s the son of the superintendent, isn’t he?” asked Curt.
“Yes,” Al broke in, “and what’s more, I suspect that ‘super.’ He looks like the sort who could do tricky things. Did you see his eyes?”
“Yes,” agreed Curt. Lang cut the motor, and glided gently, to hear better.
“But what has that to do with Griff?”
Bob, surprised at the sharpness of Lang’s tone, frowned.