CHAPTER XXX

BARNEY GIVES A HINT

While the quintet waited for the taxicab which Mr. Parsons summoned from town, Griff put the money back in the safe, thankful for his escape. Bob, Curt and Al expressed their elation that he was freed from suspicion, and Barney arrived.

“The watchman called me,” the manager explained. “Things got a bit too exciting out here and he thought I ought to know. What is there to tell me?”

The explanations took up the time of waiting.

“Hm-m-m.” Barney was pleased but thoughtful. “Glad to learn my best friend’s partner is cleared,” he nodded at Mr. Parsons. “Certainly I’m delighted that his son is all straight. And Tredway is alive! Glory be! I’m gladdest about that.”

“I knew you would be,” agreed Mr. Parsons.

“The man who gave me everything I have, made me the manager of his plant! I’ll say I’m glad he’s all right. Well, let’s go see that ex-pilot and his wicked two-autograph ally!” he grinned at Al.

“I think we ought to try to catch those truckmen first,” suggested Curt.

“Oh, let them alone,” argued Barney, and Mr. Parsons agreed.

“You know what they were doing,” he told Curt. “All you have to do now is check the stuff that is unloaded from our truck in the morning. If that turns out to be poor material, trace the other truck, get your proof—and at least one part of the mystery will be easily solved.”

They went out and packed into the taxicab, giving its driver direction for meeting the Police Chief at the edge of the picnic grove.

When they got there and related their experiences they were daunted to find him decidedly lukewarm about “rounding up” the ex-pilot and his roadhouse manager.

“I don’t think the idea is so good,” the Chief of Police stated. “Griffith Parsons has no receipt. He can’t actually prove that he paid real money, or that he paid at all. Anyway, now that his father knows the whole business, that fellow, Jenks, hasn’t a chance to collect again. He won’t dare try. Just what do you want me to do?”

“There’s this note put on the airplane, and his trying to avoid showing his handwriting by giving me two autographs,” Al suggested.

“In a way I’m sorry to destroy that clue,” said Mr. Parsons, “but when we get to the roadhouse you will see that it has no value.”

“What did you want me to do?” repeated the police official.

“We thought of facing the manager, Jenks, with Griff’s evidence of how he permits gambling to go on—and other things outside the law—and making him tell us what he knows,” Bob urged.

The man shook his head.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” the officer chuckled as he eyed Bob, Curt and Al. “Graft—hush-money! But that isn’t it at all. As far as Griff’s information goes, we’ll take care of that better by making a raid when the place is crowded and the barn is actually in use for illicit purposes. But, don’t you see what you are doing?”

The chums shook their heads.

“I do,” said Barney, and Mr. Parsons agreed again. “If we offer to make him tell with a threat of what we will do if he refuses,—we are ‘compounding a felony’ if we get him to tell anything and don’t go through with the legal steps on the face of our evidence.”

“That’s it.”

“Oh, well,” Barney saw how disappointed the three chums were, although they admitted the justice of the official’s attitude, “let’s go out and see my old patron and comrade.”

The Chief of Police agreed to look into the charges Griff had made and turned his car to return to his home, while Barney, in one cab with Bob and Al, and Mr. Parsons in the one they had called, with Curt and his own son, went on.

There was a vociferous greeting between Mr. Tredway and his plant manager.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were all right?” he cried, pumping the plant owner’s hand, slapping his back, and, as Al said later, “almost kissing him,” while the mysterious stranger, and the others watched with various feelings.

“I had to make my plans in secret,” Mr. Tredway retorted. “Not even my partner knew until tonight. But—let us get acquainted, all the way ’round.”

He turned to the mystery man behind him.

“This is my brother,” he presented the man, “and so these are the three young men who have worked so hard to solve the mystery of my crash into the lake!” He shook hands and they selected a private dining room on the second floor for a midnight repast.

“Well,” he said, smiling pleasantly at the three rather silent youths as the first course, a hot, nourishing soup, was served, “have you solved the puzzle of the mystery crash?”

“I think we have—but not all, sir,” replied Bob. “I think I can put together what happened, but not why it had to happen.”

“Go ahead,” Mr. Tredway encouraged.

“Yes, do,” urged Barney. “I admit I’m stumped.”

“Well, sir,” Bob, without trying to be vain, spoke frankly. “We got mixed up and puzzled, at first, because we were trying to solve a lot of things by connecting them with your—disappearance.”

“And we made the mistake of suspecting everybody,” interrupted Al.

“That mixed Griff’s case in, and his father’s,” agreed Curt, and he turned back to give Bob the center of the stage.

“You didn’t know whether the damage to airplanes was aimed at the plant or at you direct,” Bob told Mr. Tredway, who nodded. “You had two airplanes—both alike, except one was the Golden Dart and the other was the Silver Flash.”

“Exactly. And I thought,” Mr. Tredway interrupted, “if the guilty person knew which airplane I meant to deliver, he would damage that one and so, at the last minute I changed my ship, after saying I was going to deliver the Golden Dart I took off in the Silver Flash——”

“And you were right,” gasped Al. “When we flew the Golden one her rudder cable was frayed and broke.”

“Right, my young friend. And nothing was wrong with the other.”

“Then how did you crash it—why did it crack up?”

Mr. Tredway looked to Bob for an explanation, desiring to test the youth’s skill at deduction.

“I haven’t much to work on,” Bob said modestly, “but this is how I think you did it:

“Your brother flew here in the brown ship and hid it in the field, leaving the note to show you it was ready.”

“And then?——”

“You took off early, and then set down the big cabin ship on the turf—that accounts for the deep ruts—and the ship was in the way so you dragged it into the stubble until the brown ship got up, then took the cabin craft into the air——”

“I fail to see what the brown airplane, and Arthur’s brother, have to do with it,” Barney broke in.

“Mr. Tredway’s brother had to be there to bring down the cabin ‘plane,” Bob explained. “At least that’s the only way I can see for the tracks in the field, and the crack-up, to fit the conditions,” he paused.

“You mean—they exchanged ships? Arthur landed the cabin crate and then flew away in the brown one, while his brother crashed the Silver Flash?” Barney demanded. Tredway nodded as did his brother.

“The young man is correct in his deduction,” the latter said. “I had to come and exchange ships with my brother and then crack up the Silver Flash to give the idea that its pilot—and my brother had taken off in it!—had gone into a mudhole or under rocks in the lake.”

“What did you expect to gain by that?” asked Barney.

“Removing one partner,” Mr. Tredway smiled, “gave the other one ‘a free hand’ if he was in any way guilty, or you, Barney!”

Barney turned red.

“Do you mean to say?——”

“No, I did not suspect you, I only wanted to get away and see what happened, and who did it.”

“These young men have cleared most of us,” stated Mr. Parsons. “They have done more! They know how the good parts are taken and cheap ones are substituted.” He explained about the trucks.

“But we can’t solve the mystery of why you brought books here and then said the company books were all at the plant,” argued Al.

“I found a small set of duplicate books—that is, what we would call ‘fake’ books—private books in the cabinet,” began Mr. Parsons.

Barney bent forward.

“Where did you find those? I had them in my own desk!”

“That’s where I took them from. You see, Barney, as long as we all suspected each other it was wisest for me to check them. Not that I accuse you, because they were in your desk. You were checking up, also, of course.”

“I’m not finished either,” declared Barney. “But—as long as Arthur wanted a look at them, it’s all right with me.”

“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!

And when Barney rejoined them a moment later Bob was still musing!

“I think it would be a good idea for all of us to stay,” suggested Mr. Parsons. “It’s after midnight, and these lads must be worn out, with all their pedaling to and fro. We can telephone their homes.”

“You may all stay,” said Mr. Tredway. “But until we prove something I shall keep out of sight. Especially if the ex-pilot is apt to be around. I’m going to warm up my brother’s airplane and hop back to the airport I came from.”

They all parted. Curt declared he wanted to secure his forgotten bicycle, Bob and Al were sure they had better go on home if Mr. Parsons would let them take the taxicab. He decided that, after all, he and his son had better go home. The meal was finished. Mr. Tredway, going by a side hall, and down back stairs, sought to avoid recognition while his brother agreed to watch the ex-pilot at every chance.

Bob and Curt found the bicycle safe, and trundled it to the luggage rack at the back of the taxicab.

Then Bob turned suddenly.

“Stay here,” he said, “I want to say something to Mr. Tredway—he’s warming up the airplane.”

“Forget something?”

“No—recalled something!”

As he reached the man so mysteriously lost and so suddenly discovered Bob caught his arm and spoke very earnestly.

“For the sake of your safety,” Bob whispered, “take off, just as you planned—but only go to the cornfield—set down as soon as you can—and then—look for—crossed wires!”

In a flash he was beyond questioning!