When, during their Sunday morning conference, he amplified his statements, the mystery deepened.
Dismantled, thoroughly examined, by Barney, in person—he did not trust any subordinate in so important a matter—the airplane revealed nothing wrong, either with its engine, with its wings, or with its controls!
“But it fell,” commented the detective. “What, do you imagine, caused the crash?”
“I give it up.” Barney was unable to make a theory. “I hired you to do the doping out of that! I give you the facts. You do the rest.”
“Bob,” his father turned to the youth, “have you jotted down all the suspicious things you mentioned, as I asked you to do?”
Bob nodded and handed over a paper.
After consulting it and comparing it with a sheet on which he had written, Mr. Wright looked up.
“This is what we know,” he began. “For several months, according to Barney’s original explanation, when he gave me the case, airplane parts had been missed. Not very many, but some. We have to decide how they are taken, and then find out who does it and what happens to them, how they are disposed of.”
“How about the man who gives out the instruments and such?” asked Langley quickly. Bob thought he said it to forestall comment about Griff, “or the mechanics whom Al had been told by his rigger boss were possible culprits?”
“We haven’t been able to watch everybody,” Bob said.