  “Say, what is this?” Doyle demanded in an angry voice. “Put up your hands,” the chauffeur ordered again. “Don’t try any clever business or I’ll let you have it! Now get out of the car!” Silently Flash and Doyle obeyed. “Walk straight ahead down the road,” their captor commanded. “Is this a stick-up?” Doyle asked, standing his ground. The revolver prodded his back. “No, it isn’t a stick-up, brother. Move along before I get impatient.” “Where are you taking us?” “You’ll find out soon enough. Keep lookin’ straight ahead.” Doyle glanced sideways at Flash as they marched down the road, hands held high. “Don’t think I had any part in this!” he muttered. “I was double-crossed by that swine, Rascomb!” “You delivered us both into his hands,” Flash agreed bitterly. “Maybe now you’re willing to believe what I told you about him.” “I’ve been a dumb ox, all right.” “If you had only listened—” “Hey, no talk!” ordered the man behind them. “Keep quiet!” A few yards farther up the road he commanded the pair to turn into a path on their right. It led through dense woods to a small log cabin. Blinds covered all the windows, but a crack of light shining from beneath one of them, gave evidence of occupancy. Keeping his revolver trained upon Flash and Doyle, the chauffeur rapped twice on the door. Almost at once it was opened by a burly man whose fleshy face looked hard and cruel in the dim light. “You took long enough getting here!” he said gruffly. “Made it as quick as I could,” the chauffeur answered. “You can go now. I’ll take over.” He held a whispered conference with the burly man who then walked swiftly away through the forest. Flash and Doyle were forced to enter the cabin. The room in which they found themselves was dirty, and provided with the plainest of furniture. Opening from it was a second room. “Get in there!” the chauffeur ordered. “Say, listen!” Doyle protested angrily, “Tell us what this is all about. Why are we being held?” “Because you’ve learned too much, buddy. You and your pal.” “How long are you keeping us here?” “All depends. If you take it easy and don’t make no trouble, we may let you out tomorrow.” “After Herbert Rascomb has skipped the country,” drawled Flash. The chauffeur pushed them roughly into the dark room. Slamming the door, he turned a key in the lock. Flash and Doyle stood motionless, listening. They both could hear the wheezing breath of someone who slept. “We have company,” Flash muttered. Tracing the sound, he crossed the room to a cot which had been set up against a wall. He could not see the man who lay there. Reaching out, he touched his hand. The sleeper instantly awoke. With a startled rasp in his throat, he swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “Who is it?” he demanded hoarsely. Flash thought he recognized the voice. “Major Hartgrove!” “And who are you?” the army man countered. Flash and Doyle gave their names and sat down on the edge of the cot. In whispers they told how they had been tricked by Rascomb’s chauffeur. “So Rascomb is behind this?” the Major commented. “I should have known!” “How did they get you here, Major?” questioned Flash. “Earlier this evening I was attacked by a man who entered my hotel room by using the fire escape.” “The man who was guarding the cabin?” “Yes, he took me by surprise, overpowered me, and at the point of a pistol made me go down the fire escape to a waiting car. I was brought here.” “And were you robbed?” The Major did not reply immediately. He thought a moment and then said: “I may as well tell you now. I doubt if I’ll ever get out of this alive anyway. Yes, I was robbed.” “Not money?” Doyle prompted. “No, I had possession of important government papers. Correspondence which never should fall into the hands of an enemy. I had plans and specifications for a new tank the army is considering.” “Nothing pertaining to Bailey Brooks’ parachute?” Flash asked quickly. “Those plans were among my papers,” admitted the Major. “Captain Johns and I have been working on them intensively the past few days. The truth is, Brooks’ parachute hasn’t quite come up to our strict requirements. Our experts have suggested several changes which are being tried out.” “Then the government has decided to purchase the parachute?” “It depends upon a final test which is to be held tomorrow.” “And if it should fail?” “The test will be successful,” declared the Major confidently. “Bailey Brooks himself is making the jump. But it is a grave matter for the plans to fall into the hands of the enemy.” Flash fell silent as he thought over what he had learned. He knew that Rascomb had been intensely interested in the Bailey Brooks’ invention. Unquestionably, he had engineered the theft. But it was difficult to understand why the man delayed his get-away now that the plans were in his possession. Arising abruptly, Flash began to explore the prison room. “Any chance of getting out of here?” “None whatsoever,” the Major responded. “There is no window. If we try to break down the door, we’ll only stop a bullet.” “They’ll probably let us out tomorrow,” Doyle said. “After Rascomb has safely fled the country.” “And then it will be too late!” Flash exclaimed. “If only we could get out of here tonight! Rascomb might still be captured.” The three prisoners were startled to hear a sharp rap on the door. “Quiet in there!” For a long while Flash and his two companions conversed in whispers. After they had discussed every angle of the situation, and were agreed that it was hopeless, they lapsed into moody silence. Presently Flash aroused himself. “I have an idea,” he told the others. “It probably won’t work, but I’ll try it!” In whispers he revealed what he intended to do. Then walking over to the door, he pounded to attract the guard’s attention. “Lay off of that!” the man ordered. “Listen, we’re suffocating in here,” Flash protested. “Now ain’t that too bad?” the chauffeur asked sarcastically. “And us with the air conditioner busted down!” “Open the door.” “I ain’t that big a fool!” “At least give us some water to drink.” “So you want water?” Flash was prepared to have the request turned down. To his surprise the guard made no answer. But a minute later he unlocked the door. A beam of light shot across the floor. “Stand back, all of you,” he ordered, covering the three. Keeping his back to the door, the chauffeur deposited a bottle of water on the table. “Help yourselves,” he said. Flash moved to the table. With pretended eagerness he reached for the bottle. His hand brushed carelessly against it. Over it went, rolling across the table. He made an elaborate effort to save the contents. For a fleeting instant the guard’s attention focused suspiciously upon Flash, and his gaze was diverted from Doyle and Major Hartgrove. That instant was sufficient. Acting together, they leaped upon him, knocking the revolver from his hand. |
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