Frank Cobb

“ Indeed sometimes it was hard for her young pilot to temper his speed to the pace he knew the second balloon could make. The dirigible from Barnegat Inlet proved to be a wonder. It was a swallow, an arrow, a flash of light, a dream. All these terms and many more passed in turn through the mind of Lawrence as he held the wheel and felt the big cylinder respond to the slightest turn.
The lighter-than-air machines, while seemingly bulky, have a strange feeling of buoyancy that the planes do not possess. Lawrence seemed to partake of this lightness. ”

“ For the cleverest sky pilot in the world was hungry just as though he had been an ordinary boy with no thought above the Saturday football game or a coming exam. He fell upon the delicious breakfast with an amount of energy that made Mr. Ridgeway smile with pleasure.
“I want you to eat a good big breakfast, old man,” he said. “I want you to take me for a spin in the air after while.”
“That’s good,” said Lawrence. “If I don’t fly more than I am doing now, I will have to give up my license and take a job as instructor somewhere. I am getting all out of practice.” ”

“ Running, stumbling, the passerby would dash for the nearest street, colliding perhaps with a policeman, yawning away the last of his night beat. Then the quick return, the tap-tap-tap on the ringing pavement, and soon the rattle and clang of the city ambulance. But not before a crowd had gathered, one of the crowds that gather at any hour from everywhere and nowhere; curious, cold, morbid. And then the hasty shuffle through the fallen man’s pockets, and the awestruck whisper between the policemen, “It’s—it’s O’Brien! O’Brien, the detective!” ”

“ A few minutes later the big dirigible, manoeuvered into the open, rose lazily from the sand and in obedience to a command from Mr. Ridgeway, they turned out to sea. For the next two hours, high above the tossing waves, Lawrence manoeuvered the balloon, learning its tricks as a good horseman learns the whims of a favorite steed. Lawrence was crazy over it, as O’Brien had said, and the two older men, Mr. Ridgeway and O’Brien, as well as the two mechanicians who accompanied them, were astounded by the delicate perceptions and skillful handling that the boy pilot gave the balloon. ”

“ O’Brien was braver than most, but it had shaken him. As he collected himself, he was filled with a cold, still rage: rage against the men lying senseless above him, rage against the arch-plotter who called himself Smith. And O’Brien, thinking of the man and of the position he had seen him occupying for the past months, grew colder and more furious still. ”

“ O’Brien straightened up and gave a quick glance over his big car. He knew that it was in the pink of condition, and his heart was glad, for he knew that the chase was on; a chase possibly to the death.
Somewhere ahead of him, out over the waste of waters that tossed and tumbled far below, the dirigible carrying Mr. Ridgeway, Lawrence, the state papers and the crown jewels, sailed swiftly. And behind it, instead of the guardian dirigible from their own Field and driven by O’Brien, another machine followed—a machine its very twin in looks and speed, but bearing a cutthroat crew. ”

“ Panting cries and gurgles sounded from the collapsed dirigible, and Lawrence looked over upon a terrific encounter. Both Van Arsdale and O’Brien were large men, O’Brien stocky and full muscled, Van Arsdale built pantherlike and slim.
Van Arsdale fought with the surprise that one so low as a mere detective should raise a hand against him and with a furious resolve to punish, mangle and kill his opponent. ”

“ It was like driving a flivver after a twelve-cylinder touring car. The plane wobbled and shifted until he hit his stroke again. Reaching the home field, Lawrence silently hopped out of the plane and followed Mr. Ridgeway and O’Brien into the auto. He was very still all the way home. The day was gone, and dinner was served soon after their return. Then Mr. Ridgeway sat frowning, and presently leaned forward to say:
“I will have to have a talk with you both, and on my life I don’t know where we will be safe. I am afraid everywhere.” ”

“ The welfare worker scented one of the strange clues that often lie hidden for so long before they appear to clear up a mystery, but the bag, a very shabby, cheap affair, held nothing but a small photograph wrapped up in a piece of newspaper, and on another piece that had evidently been about some small change as the shape of the money still marked the scrap, was the name Lawrence, written over and over as though to try a pen point. ”