“This man Higginbotham is not the chief figure in the liquor smuggling ring,” stated Captain Folsom emphatically.

Captain Folsom sat in the Temple library, with the boys grouped about him. The time was nearing ten o’clock. From the moment of his arrival, shortly after the hour of nine, he had been in conference with the boys, and they had explained to him in detail all that they had discovered or surmised about their neighbors of the old Brownell place.

An army officer with a distinguished record, who had lost his left arm in the Argonne, Captain Folsom upon recovery had been given a responsible post in the prohibition enforcement forces. His was a roving commission. He was not attached permanently to the New York office, but when violations of the law at the metropolis became so flagrant as to demand especial attention, he had been sent on from Washington to assume command of a special squad 69 of agents. Lieutenant Summers, U. S. N., in command of the submarine division known as the “Dry Fleet,” was operating in conjunction with him, he had told the boys.

Still a young man in his early thirties, he had a strong face, an athletic frame and a true grey eye, and had made a good impression on the boys.

“No,” he repeated emphatically, “this man Higginbotham is not at the bottom of all this devilment. There is somebody behind it all who is keeping utterly in the dark, somebody who is manipulating all the various bands of smugglers around this part of the world. I believe that when we unearth him we shall receive the surprise of our lives, for undoubtedly, from certain evidences that have come to my attention so far, he will prove to be a man of prominence and importance in the business world.”

“But why should such a man engage in liquor smuggling?” asked Jack, astonished.

Captain Folsom smiled.

“My dear boy,” he said, “wherever ‘big money,’ so to speak, is involved, you will find men doing things you would never have suspected they were capable of. And certainly, ‘big money’ is involved in bootlegging, as liquor smuggling is termed.

“Evidently, you boys have not been interested in watching developments in this situation, since the 70 country became ‘dry.’ Well, it’s a long story, and I won’t spin out the details. But, as soon as the prohibition law went into effect, in every city in the country bootleggers sprang up. Many, of course, were of the lawless type that are always engaged in breaking the laws. Others, however, were people who ordinarily would not be regarded as law-violators. In this case, though, they felt that an injustice had been done, that human liberty had been violated, in the foisting of prohibition on the country. They felt it was a matter the individual should be permitted to decide for himself, whether he should take a drink of liquor or not, you know.

“These people, therefore, did not regard it as a crime to break the law.

“Another salve to conscience, moreover, was the fact that tremendous sums of money were to be made out of bootlegging. Liquor was selling for prices that were simply enormous. It still is, of course, but I am speaking about the beginnings of things. People who never had drunk liquor in any quantities before, now would buy a case of whiskey or wine, and pay $100 a case and up for it, and consider themselves lucky to get it. They would boast quietly to friends about having obtained a case of liquor.

“The bootlegging industry, accordingly, has grown to astonishing proportions to-day. Right in New 71 York City are men who are rated as millionaires, who a few years ago did not have a penny, and they have acquired their money through liquor smuggling.

“At first these bootleggers operated individually, and elsewhere in the Nation that is still largely their method. But here in New York there have been increasing evidences lately that some organizing genius had taken charge of the situation and was swiftly bending other bootleggers to his will. For some time, we have been of the opinion that a syndicate or ring, probably controlled and directed by one man, was responsible for most of the liquor smuggling here.”

“And do you believe,” interrupted Frank, “that this man who has bought the old Brownell place may be that central figure?”

Captain Folsom nodded.

“It is entirely possible,” he said. “Moreover, what you have told me about the construction of a secret radio plant, and about the appearance of this radio-controlled airplane, fits in with certain other facts which have puzzled us a good deal lately.”

“How so?” asked Jack.

“For one thing,” said Captain Folsom, “my colleague, Lieutenant Summers of the submarine division, tells me that his radio receivers aboard the boats of his fleet have picked up any number of mysterious series of dots and dashes lately. Code 72 experts have been working on them, but they have proved meaningless.

“He was puzzled by them. He still is puzzled. But, we have noticed that after every such flooding of the ether with these dots and dashes, a shipment of liquor has appeared on the market. And one theory advanced is that the liquor was landed along the coast of Long Island or New Jersey in boats controlled by radio from a powerful land station. The boats, of course, according to this theory, were launched from some liquor-laden vessel which had arrived off the coast from the West Indies. Radio-driven boats, automobiles or planes, Lieutenant Summers tells me, are directed by a series of dots and dashes. So you see, our theory sounds plausible enough, and, if it is correct, the direction probably has come from this secret radio station.”

Big Bob’s brow was wrinkled in thought. He seldom spoke, but usually when he did so, it was to the point.

“In that case,” he asked, “what would be the necessity for this radio-driven airplane? Apparently, the airplane is for communication from ship to shore. But, with a radio land station, why can’t such communications be carried on by radio in code?”

Captain Folsom looked thoughtful.

“There is something in that,” he said. 73

“Perhaps, these plotters are playing safe,” suggested Frank. “They may figure that code would be intercepted and interpreted. Therefore, they confine their use of radio to the transmission of power waves, and do not employ it for sending messages. The airplane is the messenger.”

Jack nodded approvingly.

“Yes,” he agreed, “Frank’s idea is a good one. Besides, by using a radio-controlled plane, the plotters can scout over the surrounding waters for miles whenever a ship is about to land a cargo. The plane can make a scouting expedition over the shore, too, for that matter. You see a radio-controlled plane has an immense advantage for such scout work, inasmuch as it proceeds practically without noise.”

Captain Folsom slapped his knee resoundingly with an open palm.

“By George,” he cried, “I believe you boys have hit it. This scout plane is the answer to what has puzzled us the last few weeks. We know liquor is being landed somewhere from ships, but despite our best efforts both ashore and on the water, we have been unable to run down the smuggling ships or the receiving parties ashore. Well, this plane warns the ships away from the vicinity of the sub chasers, and also directs the landing of the radio-controlled boats with their cargo at lonely spots where there are no 74 guards. Yes, sir, I believe that is the way it has been worked.”

He fell silent, and sat with brow wrinkled in concentrated thought. The boys respected his silence, and also were busied with their own thoughts.

“There is one thing that has got to be done,” said Captain Folsom, presently.

There was a gleam of determination in his eye.

“You mean the radio-controlled plane must be put out of commission?” asked Frank quickly.

“You have read my thought,” accused Captain Folsom. “Yes, that is just what I was going to suggest. But how to do it, with no evidence against Higginbotham or this mysterious individual living at the Brownell house, is beyond me.”

“Jack’s a shark at the use of radio,” declared Bob. “Perhaps he can suggest some method.”

All turned toward Jack.

“It wouldn’t do, of course, to make a raid and capture the plane and their radio plant?” Jack asked.

Captain Folsom shook his head.

“No,” he said. “That wouldn’t do, for a number of reasons. In the first place, as I said, we have no evidence that would stand in court that Higginbotham or anybody else connected with the matter is a law-breaker. It may even be that whoever is behind the plot has obtained a government license 75 for the operation of the radio station. The power of these bootleggers reaches far, and goes into high places. Therefore, we cannot afford to make an open attack.

“But, in the second place,” he added, leaning forward and uncrossing his legs; “what good would that do? It would only warn the Man Higher Up that we were on his track. We don’t want him warned. We want to close in on him. For I do believe you boys have given us a lead that will enable us to do so. At the same time—we do want to put that plane out of commission.”

“Look here,” said Jack, suddenly. “It’s strange, if with our airplane and our own radio plant, one of the most powerful private plants in the world, certainly in America, it’s strange, I say, if with this equipment we are not enabled to work out some method for accomplishing your ends.

“But, let’s think it over. Let’s sleep on it. I have the glimmerings of an idea now. But I’m tired. It’s been a hard day. Suppose we all turn in and talk it over to-morrow morning.”

“Good idea, Jack,” declared Bob, yawning unrestrainedly. “I’m tired, too.”

“Very good,” said Captain Folsom. “Meanwhile, I shall have to take advantage of your kind offer to put me up for the night.” 76

“No trouble at all,” said Jack, heartily. “Come along. Night, fellows. Come over to my house after breakfast. Night.”

With mutual farewells the party broke up, Frank and Bob retiring to their rooms, and Jack and his guest starting to make their way to the Hampton home. On the part of none of them was there any prevision of the strange events the night would bring forth.