<h2 id="c24"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXIV</span> <br/><span class="h2line2"><i>A DESPERATE CHANCE</i></span></h2>
<p>The fight was brief but intense. Caught completely
off guard, the chauffeur proved no match
for three desperate opponents. A hard blow on the
jaw sent him reeling backwards. He fell and was
pinned to the floor.</p>
<p>Flash groped about in the dark until he found the
revolver. He jammed its muzzle into the chauffeur’s
ribs.</p>
<p>“Let me have that,” ordered Major Hartgrove, taking
the weapon from him. “See if you can find some
rope!”</p>
<p>Flash ran into the adjoining room, and after a brief
search, located a coil which evidently had been
brought to the cabin by Rascomb’s men.</p>
<p>Doyle and the Major dragged the chauffeur into
the lighted room. Skilfully they trussed him up and
set him in a chair.</p>
<p>“Now you’ll talk,” said Major Hartgrove. “If you
refuse, I know how to change your mind! You’re
working for Rascomb?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</div>
<p>“Never heard of him.”</p>
<p>“Albert Povy then,” supplied Flash.</p>
<p>“I don’t know either of them guys,” the chauffeur
insisted.</p>
<p>“Who hired you to waylay Flash and me if it wasn’t
Rascomb?” demanded Doyle. “He recommended
you as a driver.”</p>
<p>The chauffeur glared at his three questioners, refusing
to speak.</p>
<p>“You know what a charge of kidnapping means in
this state,” reminded the Major. “A life sentence.”</p>
<p>An expression of fear came over the chauffeur’s
face. He began to tremble.</p>
<p>“Now if you come clean—tell us everything you
know—you may get off with a lighter sentence,” the
Major went on. “But if Rascomb makes good his escape,
you’ll be the one to take the rap.”</p>
<p>“This is the first job I’ve ever done for him,” the
chauffeur whined. “My orders were to let you all escape
in the morning.”</p>
<p>“What became of the papers stolen from me?” Major
Hartgrove asked.</p>
<p>“Rascomb has them.”</p>
<p>“And where is he now?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“You’re lying,” accused the Major. “Has he gone
to Melveredge Field?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</div>
<p>“Not Rascomb! He’s flying to Mexico tonight.”</p>
<p>“Flying!” exclaimed Flash. “In his own plane?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. At the hotel I heard him telephone a man
by the name of Fleur. He told him to be at the airport
by five o’clock.”</p>
<p>“Rascomb must have meant his own private field,”
Flash said, looking at his watch. “It’s fifteen after
three now. But we still have a chance to stop him.”</p>
<p>“How far are we from Excelsior City?” asked the
Major.</p>
<p>“Forty-seven miles,” the chauffeur informed.</p>
<p>“Let’s get started,” Flash urged tersely. “We
haven’t a minute to lose.”</p>
<p>Major Hartgrove untied the chauffeur’s feet and
they forced the man to walk back to the road where
the car had been left. Flash slid behind the wheel.</p>
<p>As they rode through the night at a furious pace,
Doyle and Major Hartgrove continued to question
their prisoner. They soon satisfied themselves that
he knew almost nothing about Rascomb’s past.</p>
<p>“I only met the guy yesterday,” he insisted. “Rascomb
offered me a chance to pick up some easy money.
He let on he wanted to play a joke on some friends of
his. I was to drive the car. Until tonight I didn’t
have no idea I was getting mixed up in a kidnapping,
and maybe worse.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean—worse?” the Major inquired.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</div>
<p>“Well, I don’t want to have any hand in letting an
innocent man be killed. That’s why I’m spilling
everything I know. Rascomb planted one of his men
at Melveredge Field. He has it fixed so some poor
guy will get killed tomorrow when they test out a
parachute.”</p>
<p>“Bailey Brooks!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s the one. I heard Rascomb talking
about it.”</p>
<p>“I see!” said the Major explosively. “Rascomb
figured that if Brooks were killed in the test, the parachute
would be discredited, and the army would lose
all interest. Then, with the plans in his possession, he
would quietly transfer them to his own government.
But we’ll stop that test!”</p>
<p>Flash pressed his foot harder on the accelerator.
He was afraid to look at his watch again. The speedometer
warned him that they were not making good
time.</p>
<p>Soon they came to a small town which Flash recognized.
A narrow country road bisected the one they
were following.</p>
<p>He eased on the brake.</p>
<p>“Major, this would be a short-cut to Clear Lake!
How about taking it?”</p>
<p>Major Hartgrove glanced at his prisoner. Flash
read the thought.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</div>
<p>“This town must have a constable and a jail,” he
said. “We could drop him here and go on.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that will be wiser than trying to take the
longer route,” agreed Major Hartgrove.</p>
<p>They aroused a sleepy official from his bed, and
turned the chauffeur over to him. Explanations were
necessary. The constable was slow to understand.</p>
<p>“We’re losing entirely too much time!” the Major
fumed.</p>
<p>“You stay here and enter a charge against this
man,” Flash proposed. “Doyle and I will go on to
Clear Lake. Unless we move fast, Rascomb is certain
to get away.”</p>
<p>The Major considered briefly and consented.</p>
<p>“I’ll telephone to Excelsior City for a police squad,”
he promised. “By the time you reach Clear Lake
help should be there. I’ll follow as quickly as I can.”</p>
<p>Armed with the Major’s revolver, Flash and Doyle
raced on toward Clear Lake. The road they had
chosen was bedded with loose gravel. Small stones
were thrown against the windshield and fenders as the
car skidded around corners.</p>
<p>Doyle snapped on a light and looked at his watch.</p>
<p>“Twenty after four,” he announced. “We’ll never
make it.”</p>
<p>“We will unless Rascomb takes off ahead of time!”
Flash answered grimly.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</div>
<p>Dawn was beginning to color the eastern sky.
Trees and houses along the road gradually assumed
definite shape. The air was heavy with smoke from
the forest fire which still raged miles away.</p>
<p>Flash and Doyle drove through Clear Lake at ten
minutes of five. Houses were dark, the streets deserted.
There was no police delegation to meet them.</p>
<p>Doyle nervously fingered the loaded revolver.</p>
<p>“It looks as if we’re on our own,” he said. “Unless
that chauffeur gave us a bum steer.”</p>
<p>They were drawing near the private air field. Flash
snapped off the headlight beams. As the car swung
around a bend of the road, they saw the cleared field
ahead of them, shrouded in the morning mists.</p>
<p>Flash leaned forward. A plane stood near the
hangar, propeller turning, blue flames licking from its
exhaust.</p>
<p>“It’s Rascomb!” he shouted.</p>
<p>“We’re too late,” Doyle groaned. “No chance to
stop him now.”</p>
<p>A gate which gave entrance to the private field had
been left open. Flash whirled the wheel and they
went through, bumping over the uneven ground.</p>
<p>Rascomb sat at the controls of the monoplane, with
Fleur in the cockpit behind him. They both saw the
approaching car.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</div>
<p>Derisively, Rascomb waved his hand. Speeding
up the engine, he taxied to the end of the cleared
space, then nosed the plane into the wind.</p>
<p>“We’ve lost him,” Doyle exclaimed. “He’s taking
off!”</p>
<p>Flash had noted the direction of the wind and the
path which the plane must travel.</p>
<p>“There’s one way to stop him!” he cried.</p>
<p>As the plane roared down the field, he deliberately
headed the car straight toward it.</p>
<p>“Jump!” he shouted to Doyle. “Save yourself!
We’re going to crash head-on!”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</div>
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