He tiptoed back to the steps, listening. No sound came to him. Softly he went into the open doorway, made sure the window was not tightly shut, by inspecting the lighter space beneath it, then very quietly let the door go shut, allowing its spring lock to snap. He could open it from inside if he had to escape. No one without a key could open it from the hallway.
Then he ran close to the window, peered out, listened with an ear to the crack beneath the lower panes.
Nothing was stirring. But from the window he could see the gate, and the light was sufficient to show him a man’s form arriving there.
Evidently the form stopped from surprise or caution, then it went swiftly out. Al, forgetting fear, flung the window slightly upward, edged out, dropped to the ground, reached up and almost closed the window, then fully drew it down with a little slam, and raced to the gate. There he paused, peering out carefully.
Down the narrow lane he saw a man’s form trudging rapidly.
The third trail was opened!
After the man, at a distance, trudged Al!
CHAPTER XVI
THE “WINDSOCK”
For Al the trail ended abruptly after a walk of a mile. The stranger, whose face, with its heavy beard, Al could not dare get close enough to identify—even if he knew it!—hailed a passing automobile, asked for a “lift” and was taken in. That concluded Al’s chances of following because no other car came along. Dejectedly he returned to the aircraft plant to discover that some one, perhaps the watchman, had closed the gate. There was nothing left for him to do but to go to the main gate, call the attendant and get his bicycle. His friends were gone, the man assured him, and Al had no excuse to stay there.
Dejectedly, feeling that he had been close to a clue and that it had slipped through his hands by his “bad break,” Al rode home.