<h2 id="c4"><span class="sc">Chapter IV</span> <br/><span class="small">GAINING AN ALLY</span></h2>
<p>“Twin heads, Charlie!” said Bill, resuming
his headphones sometime later. The
<i>Loening</i> was flying in from the Atlantic. Bill
had thought it wiser than trailing up the
coast for all eyes to see.</p>
<p>“Our house is over there to the left on the
other side of those woods,” returned his companion
from the rear cockpit. “Did you find
the answer, old groucho?”</p>
<p>“No, I did not, fat boy. As the poet has
it, we’ll be guided by circumstances as we
find them.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>
<p>He banked to port and leveling off, sent the
amphibian speeding over the treetops in the
direction indicated. He was flying low now,
barely a hundred and fifty feet above the
ground. His intention was to make a quick
landing if things looked propitious, rather
than to advertise their presence to these mysterious
enemies of Mr. Evans by spiraling
down from a higher altitude.</p>
<p>“There’s the house!” called Charlie.</p>
<p>In a clearing Bill caught sight of a large
red brick mansion, with jutting wings and
high gables. All the windows were closely
shuttered. The house stood back, quite close
to the woods, amid unkempt lawns and shrubbery.
A broad avenue lined with maples led
across the clearing into the forest. He caught
a glimpse as they shot over, of stables and a
smaller building, also of red brick, two or
three hundred yards to the left of the house.</p>
<p>“And there’s Dad—see him?” shouted
Charlie.</p>
<p>A man walked from the front of the house
across the drive and stood watching them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>
<p>“Yes, I see him,” retorted Bill, “but stop
your shouting or I’ll be deaf for a week.
When we come back, strip your headgear and
stand up, so he can recognize you. Hold on
tight, though—it will be rough going.”</p>
<p>Pulling back the stick, he climbed to five
hundred feet. Then, leveling off, he made
a quick flipper turn over the farther woods
and headed back toward the house, nosing
downward, throttle wide open. Just before
reaching the garage, he zoomed, missing the
roof by inches. As he banked again to circle
back, Charlie’s excited voice spoke through
his receivers.</p>
<p>“He saw me—he saw me! Look at him
now! Has he gone crazy, or what? Did you
ever see anything so silly—waving his arms
around his head like a windmill!”</p>
<p>“Shut up! He’s wigwagging!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>
<p>Banked to an angle of 45 degrees, Bill kept
the plane describing a tight circle directly
above the garage, spelling out Mr. Evans’
signals the while. Presently he waved his
understanding of the message, leveled his
wings and neutralizing his ailerons, headed
the plane out to sea.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter? What did he say?”
piped Charlie.</p>
<p>“His exact words,” returned Bill patiently,
“were ‘Park plane Clayton. Walk back after
dark. Enter through garage.’”</p>
<p>“Then why on earth are we shooting off in
the opposite direction?”</p>
<p>“Because, young Master Mind, it’s a lead-pipe
cinch we’re being watched—from the
woods, probably. Maybe they’ll think we’re
out for a transatlantic record—I hope so. The
last place we want them to think of at the
present time in connection with this plane is
Clayton!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>
<p>Bill kept the amphibian headed out to sea
for the next half hour. Convinced at last
that they were well beyond the ken of Mr.
Evans’ enemies, he banked to starboard and
headed his airbus on a course at right angles
to the last leg. He continued to fly in this
direction for some twenty miles, then turned
back toward the coast again.</p>
<p>When at last they passed over the shore
line once more, it was at a point thirty miles
along the coast from Twin Heads and the
Evans house. Bill steered his craft inland,
turned right again and came in sight of their
destination as the hands of his wristwatch
marked ten o’clock.</p>
<p>“Clayton has a small airport,” said Charlie
tentatively.</p>
<p>“Thanks for that! If you’d told me before,
you’d have saved me some worry. The
last thing we want to do is to advertise the
<i>Loening</i> in this neck of the woods. If we’d
had to come down in a farmer’s meadow, it
would have been all over town in half an
hour.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>
<p>They were over the landing field now, and
as Bill circled the plane, preparatory to their
descent, he saw that it was little more than
a meadow, a mile out of town, with hangar
capable of housing three or four planes. The
flat roof of this building was painted black.
Large block letters in white paint proclaimed
the legend</p>
<p class="center">PARKER’S AIRDROME
<br/>CLAYTON ME.</p>
<p>Near the highway that led into the town,
and separated from the landing field by a
white picket fence, stood a small farmhouse.
As Bill swung his bus into the wind and nosed
over, he saw a man open the gate in the fence
and walk toward the hangar.</p>
<p>The wheels of the <i>Loening’s</i> retractable
landing gear touched the ground. The plane
rolled forward, and came to a stop on the concrete
apron of the hangar, before its open
doors.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div>
<p>“Very pretty, very pretty indeed!” remarked
the individual who had come through
the gate. He was a tall, rangy man of about
thirty, wearing overalls much the worse for
grease and hard usage.</p>
<p>Bill and Charlie climbed down and walked
over to him. “Good morning, and thanks,”
smiled Bill. “My name is Bolton. Mr.
Parker, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“It pays to advertise,” grinned the lanky
individual, and he gripped Bill’s extended
hand with a horny fist. “Parker’s the name.
I guess, by the way you brought that <i>Loening</i>
down, it isn’t flight instruction you’re after!”</p>
<p>“No,” said Bill, “not this time. What I
need is gas and oil and a place to park the bus
for a few days. Can you fix me up?”</p>
<p>“Sure can, Mister. Business round here
this summer is deader than a doornail. Specially
in my line. Want the bus filled up,
looked over and put shipshape, I take it?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div>
<p>“That’s it. One of her plugs is carbonized
a bit. I’d attend to it myself, only I’m too
sleepy. We’ve been in the air most of the
night. Anywhere we can turn in for a few
hours? Our friends don’t expect us till this
evening.”</p>
<p>“Well, I can rent you the spare room over
to the house for as long as you want it. And
how about something to eat before you turn
in?”</p>
<p>“Lead me to it,” Charlie spoke up for the
first time.</p>
<p>“Good enough!” Parker chuckled. “Come
on, Mrs. P. will be glad to dish up something
tasty for you fellows.”</p>
<p>The Parker homestead proved to be as neat
and clean as a new pin. Mrs. Parker, a buxom
young woman with dimples and a jolly smile,
served the hungry lads with wheatcakes and
coffee until they couldn’t eat another mouthful.
Then she led them upstairs to the low-ceiled
bedroom, where two white beds invited
them to rest. She promised to call them at
seven that evening and left them. Five minutes
later, Bill and Charlie were sound asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div>
<p>“Seven o’clock—time to get up!” called
a cheery voice which Bill sleepily realized
was Mrs. Parker’s.</p>
<p>“All right, thanks,” he called back. “Be
down in a jiffy. And would it be too much
trouble to fix us a couple of sandwiches before
we start?”</p>
<p>“Ezra and I,” said Mrs. Parker from the
other side of the closed door, “figured as how
you’d be wanting something. We’re waitin’
supper for you. And there’s a showerbath at
the end of the hall—plenty of hot water if
you want it.”</p>
<p>“We certainly do,” called Bill, “thanks a
lot, Mrs. Parker. We’ll make it snappy.”</p>
<p>He leaned over and picked up a rubber
sneaker. A moment later it bounced off of
Charlie’s red head, effectually bringing that
young man back from dreamland.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div>
<p>Supper with the Parkers was a pleasant
affair. When it was over Bill had some little
trouble to make Mrs. Parker accept payment
for their entertainment. He guessed, however,
that their financial condition was none
of the best, so when she asked him if a dollar
would be too much, he pressed a five-spot on
the astonished young matron and refused to
take change. While he went out to assist
Parker in an inspection of the <i>Loening</i>, Charlie,
not to be outdone in gallantry, insisted on
helping wash the dishes.</p>
<p>Out in the hangar, Bill came to a decision
on a question he had been considering
throughout the meal. Ezra Parker and his
pretty wife were an honest, wholesome pair.
He needed someone in Clayton whom he could
trust and so he came at once to the point.</p>
<p>“Mr. Parker, I need a friend,” he said
quietly. “I dare say you aren’t averse to making
some extra money?”</p>
<p>Ezra smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I liked you the minute I set eyes on you this
morning, Bill,” he declared. “I guess there
need be no mention of money in our friendship.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_63">63</div>
<p>“Perhaps not. But this friendship has a
job attached to it, and you told me when I
landed, that business was none too good.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s a fact, boy. Mrs. P. and I
have had a hard time to make both ends meet
this summer. Anything short of robbery or
murder with a dollar or two tacked onto it
will be a godsend. Our savings are tied up in
this little property and we hate to give up.
But there’s been mighty little joy-flying or
anything else in this line of business since the
depression. It’s beginning to look as if we’d
have to let the place go unless something turns
up soon. So I can’t say I’m not anxious to
make some ready money.”</p>
<p>“This job,” said Bill, “is worth five hundred
a month, but you’d be expected to keep
a closed head about anything that might come
up.”</p>
<p>Ezra stared at him in amazement. “You
a millionaire in disguise?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>
<p>“No—only a midshipman on summer vacation.
But Mr. Evans has plenty, and he is
going to pay your salary.”</p>
<p>“Gosh! you’re the guy that put the lid on
von Hiemskirk and his pirates over to Twin
Heads harbor?”</p>
<p>“I helped some,” Bill admitted.</p>
<p>“I’ll say you did! What’s this job—more
pirates?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so. To be truthful, the
whole thing is much of a mystery to me so
far.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Ezra affirmed, “I never earned
five hundred a month in my life. One month’s
work will put Mrs. P. and me on velvet.”</p>
<p>“Then listen!” Bill gave him a sketch
of affairs to date.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div>
<p>“I know the place Mr. Evans bought,”
said Ezra when he’d finished. “Used to belong
to old Job Turner who died last year.
They say there’s secret rooms, underground
passages and all manner of queer things about
that house. I expect it’s all lies—but no telling.
Mr. Evans can’t be up against that
Hiemskirk gang. The government cleaned
them up good and plenty.”</p>
<p>“Well, he’s up against somebody equally
unpleasant. I’ve had a taste of them already.
Are you really game for the job?”</p>
<p>“I sure am. What do you want me to do
first?”</p>
<p>“Take this.”</p>
<p>Ezra took the money, albeit reluctantly.
“What’s all this for?” he asked, counting the
bills.</p>
<p>“Oil, gas, your time on the bus and two
weeks’ salary.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you think it’s dangerous, carrying
a roll that would choke a horse?”</p>
<p>“I’m not in the habit of it,” laughed Bill.
“It was a birthday present from my father.
Don’t worry, Mr. Evans will reimburse me.”</p>
<p>“But maybe,” suggested Ezra doubtfully,
“he may not be strong on the deal.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div>
<p>“He asked for my help,” returned Bill,
“and this is part of it. You’ve got a car of
some sort about the place, I suppose?”</p>
<p>“‘Of some sort’ describes it. Want me to
run you over to Turner’s?”</p>
<p>“Yes—but only to where the Turner road
branches out of the one to Twin Heads Harbor.”</p>
<p>“Right, Bill. Before we start, hadn’t you
better tell me what you want me to do?”</p>
<p>“We can talk about that on the way over,”
said his young employer. “While you’re
dragging out the fliv. or the Chev. or whatever
it is, I’ll get hold of Charlie and say goodbye
to Mrs. Parker.”</p>
<p>Ezra chuckled. “She’ll be some happy girl
when I tell her what you’ve done. The three
of us will get kissed good and proper!”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind, if you don’t!” laughed
Bill, and went toward the house.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>
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