1Another Gripping"Kerry Keen" Sky YarnBy Arch WhitehouseOut of the pall of night, dead upon the Black Bullet, there suddenly charged a grotesque sky monster astrange, caterpillar-treaded behemoth which spewed a torrent of lead as it came. What was it? And fromwhere did it come? These questions raced through the Griffon's mind as he leveled his guns upon it. Butbefore he could draw a bead, two great arms reached from the back cockpit, pinned him in a vise-like grip.Barney O'Dare his own man had turned against him.HE Black Bullet streaked across the sky likea two-bladed knife hurled by some unseengiant. It dipped, swerved and turned,wheeling through its nocturnal gyrations under theskilled hand of the Griffon. Below, slashingalternately across the waters of Long Island Soundand the velvet black rollers of the broad Atlantic,the sword-blade shaft of light from the Montaukbeacon brought out the indistinct outlines ofsurface craft below a Boston steamer, a proudpuffing tug, a palatial yacht.Above it all, the Black Bullet raced against astop watch on the Griffon's wrist. It answeredhis every whim, sped through the fullcatalog of maneuvers demanded by the man in thescarlet mask. In the back seat, proud of hishandicraft and his mechanical skill, BarneyO'Dare, the Griffon's none-too-silent partner,likewise sat watching the black amphibian gothrough her paces after a thorough overhaul.The Griffon turned to smile over his shoulder,then stiffened abruptly.A grim, winged fortress was charging downon them from above. In the fraction of a second,the Griffon took it in completely, focused hiscamera-eye on its striking details.It was a huge mid-wing monoplane poweredwith four massive engines of the in-line type.These motors were set in beautifully-fairednacelles. At the nose of the long, protrudingfuselage was a movable gun turret flaunting ashort, snub-nosed weapon that gleamed in thestarlight and flare of the exhausts. It was larger inbore than the average machine gun and the Griffonwinced at the thought of what might be hurledfrom that black snout.TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19372Barney was doing nothing but stare. That wasnot like Barney. Usually he had to be restrained.He just sat hunched, peering out through the closedgun tray of the transparent coupe top.The Griffon watched the flying fortress wheel,then gasped at its amazing undercarriage. Thisappeared to be a complete unit in itself. Instead ofwheels, it had a complete set of caterpillar tractortreads."Whew!" whistled the Griffon. "If she needssomething as strong as that, she must be heavy.What the devil sort of a bus is it?"PUN-N-NG!A flash of flame stabbed out of the nose of themonster with the strange silver body. A shellhissed past the Black Bullet and the Griffonscreamed: "Get that guy in that turret, Barney!"But Barney was not "buying" any. He simplysat back and stared with an insane glint in his eyeat the thunderous bus that was pounding steel atthem. He appeared to be strangely fascinated.The Griffon threw the Black Bullet clear,curled into a climbing turn. Then he reached over,snatched at Barney's shoulder, and shook him."Wake up, you dumb Mick!" he yelled. "What areyou waiting for?"Satisfied that the O'Dare would finally go intoaction the Griffon returned to his front-officebusiness and made ready for a general sally on thewide-winged, giant that was now below them.Again that snorting big gun barked andanother screeching shell slammed past and burst inmid-air above them.BRR-OOOM!The Griffon flew madly now, hurled theBlack Bullet all over the sky, sought an opening toget a punch at the silver-bodied fortress below.Finally he worked the Black Bullet into a positiondead behind the tail flippers of the big machine,preparing to give her every thing he had up front."Get him on the twist, Barney, after I getthrough with her," the Griffon bawled over hisshoulder.He nosed down, gave the big Avia all shecould take, and pressed every gun trigger in theoffice.But before he could really draw a bead,something smothered him from behind. Two greatarms were encircling him, constricting his ownarms to his sides. The move caused him to drawthe stick back and the Black Bullet went up the skylike a released rocket. For several seconds theyremained at this angle and finally the Griffon'sarms were released."Don't.... Don't.... Don't hit her!" Barneyscreamed into the Griffon's ear. "Don't...."HE Griffon swore under his breath, turned hisenraged attention to getting the Black Bulletback on an even keel. He had to ease her gently toprevent a spin. He had no desire to throw the shipabout any too hard, for he did not know how much,if any, damage had been done to his own craft.Finally he pulled her clear and hammeredaway to get out of range of the strange ship. Hewondered why Barney had done that. He wonderedwhat the Mick had seen to cause him to take such astrange attitude. This was a new one on theGriffon.By the time he had cleared, the wingedfortress was out of sight."What the hell?" he started to bawl over hisshoulder. "What the deuce made you do that,Barney?"He got no answer, so he twisted aroundfarther, saw that Barney was still staring out of theside of the cockpit with unseeing eyes. He had notbroken out the guns and he had no answer."Are you drunk?" the Griffon finally asked.No answer."Oh well, there's no use sitting up herearguing. We'll have it out when we get down."The Griffon turned the Black Bullet backtoward the Long Island shoreline and rammed inthe Skoda mufflers which deadened the roar of thebig Avia down to a low purr. He throttled back andlet her glide gently in.She dropped on the water a few minutes afterKeen had lowered the retractable pontoons andsurged up with a minimum of noise to the flat,hard-packed sands in front of a boathouse. Thenquietly, with no more noise than would be offeredby a luxurious motor car, the Black Bullet, herpontoons tilted now for land movement, rolled pasta heavy foliaged grape arbor and up a thickly-turfed lawn.Barney slipped out, rammed his hand insidethe fuselage, and the wings folded back snugagainst the sides of the fuselage. Then he movedforward, sought a sunken switch box at one end ofa great rock-garden and in a few seconds the faceof the garden mysteriously split open and foldedback, disclosing a cavernous hangar.TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19373The Griffon ran the ship inside and climbedout, prepared to get some explanation of Barney'samazing actions.But Barney was nowhere to be found. He haddisappeared completely!Kerry Keen drew off his Griffon garments, letout a low whistle. Finally he turned on a light toinspect the damage done to the Black Bullet, andthen, satisfied that she had suffered no untowardbattering, he snapped the switch off and wandered,pained, puzzled and discouraged, upstairs to hissnug den.HAT was shortly before midnight; but it waswell after 8 o'clock before Keen got up fromhis big desk where he had been working on a paperentitled The Magnus Effect on the SpinningProjectile which he was to read before the comingInternational Ballistics Commission conference.He had the weird quality of being able tocompletely throw his mind off past events toconcentrate on the work at hand. By the time hewas ready for his glass of warm milk, whichBarney always had at hand by the time he wasready to slip between the sheets, he had to jostlehimself to recall the incident of the flying fortressand the strange disappearance of the Mick."That's right," he said."Now where the devil did he bust off to?"He went through the great house, seeking hisman, but he was nowhere to be found.His room had not been entered since he hadleft it prior to going on the test flight. He wasnowhere about in the sunken hangar. He was not inthe wine cellar, nor were there any emptyO'Doul's Dew bottles around.Keen frowned, lit a massive, straight-stemmedbriar pipe. He sat down again and pondered on thesubject, wondered what was behind Barney's mindwhen he interfered with his diving on the greatplane over the Sound.There seemed to be no answer for it, so Keensanely went to bed to sleep on it, as it were.NEXT morning, there was no cheerybreakfast, no warm bath, no laying out of a neatlypressed morning suit. Keen, hair tousled and puffy-eyed, wandered about Graylands like a lost dog.He peered into rooms, sought evidence of Barney'sreturn and even looked about for a note. There wasnothing. And so, he made himself a light breakfastand continued work on his ballistics paper.But by noon he could stand it no longer, so heran out his sport roadster, a new Italian Renghali,and throwing a light top coat into the seat besidehim, he started out for New York City. By threeo'clock he was sitting in the dingy office of JohnScott, Department of Justice agent, in the mid-town section of the city.Drury Lang was there, looking even rattierthan ever. Both Scott and Lang were workingfeverishly over broken sections of metal something that looked like a battered taxi-meterand some sections of frayed wire."Trying to get London?" inquired Keen, witha smirk toward Lang. "Or is this something new inparlor games.""You can get out of here as quick as you like.We're busy," growled Lang."Do anything for you?" inquired Scott a littlemore sociably, but businesslike nevertheless."We've got a rather nasty job on our hands.""Hmm. That's nothing. I've lost my man,Barney," exclaimed Keen, expecting to get someresponse."Drunk.... lying in a gutter somewhere,"mumbled Lang."You can get another man somewhere, can'tyou?" Scott added. "This isn't an employmentoffice.""But I want every hospital and police stationin this section checked," said Keen. "Every one,understand?"Both Lang and Scott looked up suddenly,Lang dropped the parts of metal he was studyingand came over to where Keen was sitting. "What'sup?" he said quickly. Lang had never seen Keenlike this before."He disappeared last night from the house about 11 o'clock. Just went, and he hasn't turnedup yet.""What was the matter? You bawl him out forsomething?""No, but I was going to. He disappearedbefore I could get around to it.""Well, there you are, then," Scott said,throwing out his hands. "He must know the wrathof your tongue, and he was not having any.""No, that wasn't it. I've bawled him outbefore, but it never leaves any impression. Thistime, I'm afraid, it's something serious. I want youto make a thorough search."TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19374"Or what?" growled Lang."Or.... or I won't tell the Griffon to do youany more favors," smiled the ballistics expert."Bosh! You've never even seen the Griffon,"raged Lang. "I have!""So I've heard," Keen taunted. "But lookhere, I do want you to make an attempt to locateBarney. I do miss him you know.""This ain't no lost and found department,"Lang spat again. "Besides, I told you we're busy.Maybe," he added, "you heard about that taxicabbusiness yesterday afternoon.... in 84th Street?""No. What taxicab business?""That one that blew up, killing the driver andinjuring about ten people who were nearby.""Oh yes, another variation of the Wall Streetexplosion business wasn't it? I read somethingabout it in the papers.""This is what did it," said Lang with a proudgesture at the twisted metal on the desk."The meter?" asked Keen getting up andshowing interest. "You mean to say the meter blewup? I've expected that before, the way those thingsrun once you sit down in the back seat.""Naw!" fumed Lang. "This was the gadgetthat set the bomb off. When it registered about$1.80 it touched off a fuse and blew the taxi up.""What for?" inquired Keen. "A new taxicabwar or something?""That's what we want to know," mutteredLang through his ratty mustache. "That's what wewant to know. Why they went after this poor devil,an Alonzo Gabbritch, is more than we can figure.He was just a punk, a taxi driver with no particularconnections that we can figure out.""You working on his background, Scott?"asked Kerry, showing real interest now."Haven't got the time, now," sparred Scott."You see, a much more important case has justbeen laid in my lap. Believe it or not, some onehas actually mislaid this thing." And he tossed alarge glossy photograph across the table. On seeingit, Keen only just managed to stifle a gasp."Ever catch sight of anything like that?" askedScott, turning around to fill his pipe."No.... What the deuce is it?" Keen finallymanaged to say, carelessly snapping a silvercigarette lighter and lighting a corktipped cigarette."Looks like an airliner that has been crossed with atank."COTT turned around quickly, stared at Keen:"That's exactly what it is. How did youknow?""Well, it has wings and a body, and yetunderneath it has what looks like a tank of somesort. See, the tractor treads are quite plain.""Have you ever seen this thing.... anywhere?"asked Lang with a leer spacing his words carefully."There you go again, Drury," grinned Keen."I know nothing about it. I have never seen itanywhere except on this picture. What's it allabout, anyway?""Nothing," Scott said quietly, "only lateyesterday afternoon this thing was stolen from ahangar outside Wright Field, at Dayton, Ohio. Wedon't know where it is but we'd like to.""Yes, I'd like to find Barney, too," said Keenquietly. And now what the deuce is this all about,anyway?" he said, indicating the photo."It's just what you said it was a planecrossed with a tank. In other words, it's a bomber-fighter that is built to take a full-size Army tankinto the air, and if necessary deposit it behind theenemy lines. They call tanks mechanized cavalry.Well, a corps of these things might be calledcavalry of the clouds.""Volunteers for the Winged Tank Corps, lineup at the right and no pushing," chanted Keenwith a grin."Yeh, I wouldn't want it either, but someonein the Army has decided that it's a good idea, andstrange to relate, the damn thing works. It has beentried out in secret. The plane simply rolls up withits wheels down and straddles the tank. Then anarrangement is dropped that fastens the tank in adepression in the body of the plane. The tank, yousee, is a high speed machine and the men in theplane can use it to take off with. Into the air theygo and fly behind the enemy lines. They land,release the tank to carry out its routine patrol, andfly off again on their own landing gear. After thetank's work is done, and provided conditions arefavorable, the plane can return, pick it up again,and bring it back to its own side of the lines.""The world gets dizzier and dizzier," Keenmoaned. "So what?""Well, it has been stolen. Who did it and how,we don't know.""Stolen yesterday afternoon? It must be halfway to Japan or Spain by now, eh?""That part doesn't matter. Everyone has hadthe tank-plane idea for years, but it took a youngSArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19375metallurgist in the War Department to put it over.No plane in the world, you understand, could pickup the average Army tank I mean one big enoughand armed enough to do any real damage behindenemy lines. It had to be made very light and stillbullet- and shell-proof.""A new metal?" said Keen, bending forward."That's it. A new light armor plate. It's calledAvalin. And not only does it answer a greatproblem concerning this flying tank idea, but thestuff can be used in battleships, considerablylightening them and thus increasing their speed."Keen had sensed all this long before, but heprofessed great amazement."So they not only stole a complete flyingmodel of this tank-plane, but they have samples ofthe metal as well," he said, furrowing his brow."That's not quite the story," replied Scott."It's true they have the tank, which is made of thismetal, but the formula and the annealing process sonecessary in its manufacture is another thing."Drury Lang sat on the corner of the table andwatched Keen like a cat watches a mouse. Andnow he could hold himself in no longer "How would you like to pick up that formula for the return of Barney O'Dare, Keen?" he saidwith a snaky grin.HIS new sally nearly caught Keen off guard.He hesitated, flicked the ash from his cigarette."What the deuce are you talking about?" he finallymanaged to say."Just that. The formula and annealing processof the new metal known as Avalinwas stolen a short time after they swiped thatplane. We don't know where it is or who has it, butwe can't have it out of the hands of theGovernment for more than forty-eight hours at themost.""What's he talking about?" demanded Keen,appealing to Scott."That's it, Keen. They also swiped theformula, but as it is written in a special secret code,we know it would take them at least forty-eighthours to break it and find the real secret. And so,we might help you find Barney O'Dare if you'llgive us a hand on the Avalin formula.""But what the deuce does Barney have to dowith this?""Nothing," laughed Lang, "except that a mananswering Barney O'Dare's description was thelast fare to use the taxi-cab which was blown upyesterday afternoon. Do you happen to knowwhere Barney O'Dare was yesterday afternoonabout 8 o'clock?""No.... no, I don't. He had the day off, and asfar as I know he was in town mooching about, ashe usually does, seeing his pet movie actress at thePalace Royal theatre. He goes for her in a big way,you know autographs and pictures of her on hiswall.""Who's that?" demanded Lang, leaping offthe corner of the table."Oh, this girl Doreen Yardley.... she's playingin that new spy picture, Whispering Wings. Barneygoes for her hard.""Whispering Wings!" almost screamed Lang,charging for a newspaper. "There's a tie-up! Get it,John. That plot is almost the same as this mess. It'sabout enemy agents stealing a new bombing plane.What a tie-up!""Wait a minute," snapped Scott. "Gimme thatpaper!"Keen sat back staring at the two Departmentof Justice men as they floundered about with thenewspaper."Look here," Scott said with unvarnishedalarm. "It says that Miss Doreen Yardley, star ofWhispering Wings now playing at the PalaceRoyal, Broadway's newest and most luxuriousmovie palace, failed to turn up last night for herscheduled personal appearance. She had fulfilledone engagement in the afternoon, but after leavingthe theater in her appearance costume, she didn'tshow up again at her hotel, the Ritz Savoy. Later,about midnight, her car, an expensive limousine,was found abandoned on West Street near theLackawanna Railroad ferry at Barclay Street. Notrace of the chauffeur, one Pierre Gallante, hasbeen uncovered either.""Well, I'll be damned!" gagged Lang, peeringover Scott's shoulder."What are you trying to make out of all theseapparently unrelated items?" barked Keen,selecting another cigarette."So your Mister O'Dare is missing, too, eh?"Lang gargled with a grimace at Keen. "When didyou see him last?""About 11 o'clock, I should say, roughlyspeaking.""Very roughly, I'd say. When did he get backfrom New York?"TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19376"I don't know. I was out for a stroll andstopped in to see some friends for a cocktail untilabout five. Then I worked in my study on a paper Iam to read before the International BallisticsCommission convention. Barney called me forsupper some time after seven. He was around untilabout eleven or eleven-thirty, I'd say. Anyway, hewas not about when I went to call him for some hotmilk.""Then you don't know when he came in, norwhen he went off again?""I don't know when he came in, but he wasaround until well after eleven. As I say, I missedhim about 11:30. I wanted some hot milk.""If he got back in time to serve your dinner atseven, or a little after, what would be the latest hecame in?""Well, I'm no cook, but I should say that itwould have taken him half an hour at the least.""Then he might have returned about 6:30.How long would it take him to get from downtownNew York to your place?""With good connections, about two hours atthe most," figured Keen."Then he could have been somewhere nearwhere this taxi blew up just after three in theafternoon and still get out to your place in time toget your dinner, eh?""Yes, he could,"agreed Keen, trying topiece many thingstogether."Now we are goingto look for Mr. BarneyO'Dare," clucked DruryLang. "He might knowplenty about MissDoreen Yardley and themissing plane and possibly the formula of theAvalin armor plate.""You know, Scott," said Keen reflectively,"there are times when I am certain old Lang here isgoing off his noggin.""I have felt the same way several times,"agreed Scott much to Lang's dismay, "butsomehow, this time, Keen, I feel that he isdisplaying a rare touch of perception. There maybe a lot in what he says.""Oh, my hat!" gasped Keen, getting up with adisplay of amazement. "Don't tell me he'sinflicting his influence on you!""Boy, you'd better dig up Barney O'Dare,"Lang crowed. "You'd better get him first, becauseif we get our hooks on him, we'll make him talk.We'll find out a lot of things, I believe, and manyof those things will implicate a certain Mr.Ginsberg and a certain Mr. Pulski. Now will yougo to work and see what you can do about a certainformula?"EEN had little to say after that. He realizedthat there were too many cock-eyed angles toall this. Could old Lang know that he had actuallyseen the tank-plane in the sky over Long Island thenight before and that it had actually fired on himand his Black Bullet, he would never have beenallowed to leave the office.As it was, he sensed that he was in a toughspot. Suppose they did pick Barney up. Supposethey found him a trifle under the influence ofO'Doul's Dew. Suppose they made him talk.Suppose Barney so forgot himself as to give thewhole show away....Reflections were terrifying, and Keen staredabout for an out. There was only one. He mustdivert their attention from Barney and keep itfocused on the missing formula."You say this tank-plane thing was stolenyesterday afternoon?" Keen suddenly nagged backat them. "How?""That we don't know. All we can get on it isthat the ship was kept in one of the experimentalhangars. There was some sort of a fire started inthis hangar. The crew rushed the plane out quicklyand then turned their attentions on the flames.While all this was going on, somebody slipped intothe ship, and before anyone could do anythingabout it they were away.""Clever idea, all right. Now about theformula. Where was that taken from?""As far as we can make out, it had been inWashington with one of the Technical Divisionswhere it was being transcribed into the secret codeand bound. One courier brought it to New York byair.... that is, into Newark and then to New Yorkwhere it was to be turned over to another courierwho was to take it on to Wright Field.""How, by air?""No, the weather dropped down and it wasdecided to take it through by train. The casecontaining this bound formula appears to havebeen taken, by some deception, on the airlineKArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19377coach that was bringing the passengers throughfrom the Newark Airport to New York City proper.They pulled the old duplicate brief case swap onthe courier, and he didn't notice the change until hewas in Grand Central Station.""When was that?" inquired Keen."Yesterday afternoon about 3 o'clock. Inother words, the courier must have lost it about2:30 aboard the ferry that, comes into 23rd Street,""Didn't the airline car use the Holland Tunnelinto the city?" asked Keen quickly."No, it appears that there was some sort of atie-up at the New Jersey end of the tunnel, so thedriver turned into Hoboken and used theLackawanna Ferry.""Lackawanna Ferry?... and Miss Yardley'slimousine was found abandoned at the BarclayStreet entrance of the Lackawanna Ferry?" Keenmuttered aloud."Hey, there's an angle," said Lang, suddenly."You're thinking now, Keen. That's an angle!""Just a tie-up of names," said Keen, trying tothrow it off. "Probably nothing to it. But it doesseem funny that that airline coach should take theLackawanna Ferry instead of going through thetunnel. If someone snatched that case before thecourier reached that point, he the thief couldhave left the coach in the Lackawanna station andtaken the ferry that went farther downtown, whilethe coach took the uptown ferry. Why don't youtry to check that time bracket?""Don't worry, we will!" blatted Scott.The three men sat silent for some time. Scottpuffed on a great briar pipe, Keen allowed longcurling plumes of smoke to rise from his cigarette,and Lang picked at his brown tusks with the end ofa match."Well, what are you waiting for?" demandedLang after a lengthy reflection. "You only got ashort time.""This looks like a job for your friend, theGriffon," Keen said with a frown. "Why don't youput him on it?""I would if I knew where he was or who thehell he really is," snarled Lang."Well, I'll be tootling," Keen added with acheery air. "I shall be out at Long Island if youwant me.""You won't find much out there. It's allaround here, somewhere.""What about the tank-plane. That might beone of the angles you know. Turn out the Army,the Navy, and the Air Service.""Bah! It'll take more than that," Lang snorted,snatching at the paper again."Thanks, you certainly are reposing a specialtrust in me," grinned Keen, going toward the door."We'll trust you until we get our hooks onthat man Barney of yours," Lang hurled after himas he went through the door."Don't worry," retorted Keen. "He's probablymiles away from here."EEN went out, closed the door quietly, thenstared at a queer square of paper that lay onthe floor at his feet. There was something strangelyfamiliar about it a label of some sort with a one-inch border gay with a Scottish tartan. The labelfrom a whiskey bottle O'Doul's Dew!Keen picked it up quickly and went to theelevator humming a tune from an old time musicalcomedy.Poets, guards and heroes true,Fighters, lovers, Churchmen, too,Crowd the chapters we go through.Then they scattered here and there,Causing trouble everywhere,What a lovely name, O'Dare!He got into theelevator withoutattempting to inquire ifanyone had seenBarney. He knew that ifthe Mick had wanted tobe seen, he would havearranged it. It wasevident that he wishedto lay low.As the elevatorstarted down, Keen turned the label over and readin a horrible scrawl: "Tonight.... midnight .... overNo Man's Land."For a minute or two Keen was unable to makehead or tail of the crazy message. "No Man'sLand?" he muttered when he got into the street."What the deuce does he mean? He must bedrunk."But soon after he had started his car and wasthreading his way through the city traffic, it allKArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19378came to him. No Man's Land was the name of asmall island about 58 miles north-east of MontaukPoint. It lay about ten miles out in the ocean, southof Martha's Vineyard. It was a lonely blot on theblue of the Atlantic inhabited by only a few hardyfishermen who were content to live much as hadtheir forebears of two centuries before."Um," mused Keen as he headed for LongIsland. "I wonder if they've got that bus hidden outup there? They might, hoping to contact someone someone who might have that formula."He drove on, his mind clicking as fast as thetwelve-cylinder engine beneath the hood. Hewondered now why Barney had stopped him fromshooting at the tank-plane the night before. Hewondered if Barney had seen something near theLackawanna Ferry on the afternoon before that tiedup with all this mystery. He wondered what thedisappearance of Miss Doreen Yardley had to dowith a secret military plane and the stealing of asecret formula for a light armor plate. He naturallywondered how Barney knew that something wasgoing to take place that evening at midnight overthe island of No Man's Land."What a lovely name, O'Dare!"He sang at the top of his voice as he rolledthrough the beautiful countryside of Long Island.HERE was no further news of Barney for therest of the day and Keen contented himselfwith preparing the Black Bullet for any sort ofaction that might come up. He filled the tanks,checked the oil, and then went over the gunscarefully, seeing that all belts were fully loaded.He might have been preparing the amphibian for ayoung war, for all the care he took.At 7 o'clock, his task completed, he wentback through the sliding panel that led into thewine cellar, selected a choice bottle of Heidsiek,wandered upstairs, and prepared his own dinner.He drank cheerfully by himself, lit a fine Corona-Corona, and sat back to enjoy a cheerful fire in hisopen fireplace. Then, satisfied with himself, hecurled up on a great down-filled divan and wentstraight to sleep. At exactly 11 o'clock he woke up,took a quick shower, climbed into his flying kit,and went downstairs.He started the Avia motor and turned on thehigh-speed ventilator system which took off all thecarbon monoxide. After she warmed, he ran herout, closed the secret rock garden doors, then tookher out on the water. Finally, he set the pontoonsfor a water take-off and purred away into thedarkness.In a few minutes he was well out to sea at4,000 where he was now able to cut out the Skodamufflers and let her run full out. With a last lookaround, he drew the pontoons up all the way sothat they fitted snugly into their recesses andturned to the north-east for the island of No Man'sLand.Below, the water seemed warm and somehowluxuriant, and the moonlight streaking out from therifts of cloud ahead seemed to give the land awarm cloak of moleskin. The golden flares ofcoastal signals lay like expensive brooches on ablack satin pad. The towns along the Connecticutshore crouched like monsters with spangled scalesas hide, and outside Hartford the tell-tale beams ofairline beacons flashed in their ever-circling battlewith the darkness.It was all so enchanting that Keen foundhimself engrossed in the wonder of the night aloft the undreamed-of paradise of flight in a nightsky. The earth seemed more serene, morebeautiful, more marvelous than it ever could underthe blatancy of day.But just as he discerned the outline of NoMan's Land island, out of the west came a wingedpack of opposition!"Hello! Navy stuff, eh? They must have someidea, too."Keen swerved to clear the first charge of theVoughts that were upon him. And now he felt ajangle of discordant battering upon his fuselagesomewhere near the tail. He zoomed hard, gave herall the power she could take.He felt his controls carefully; and sensing thatnothing had been hit, he went to work to elude theNavy pilots. They were converging on him nowwith all forward weapons rattling. The sky,completely changed now, was streaked with tracer,alive with flaming-nosed fighters, and etched withgrim smoke lines. Pennons of flame fluttered fromthe exhausts and riders of the night sky hammeredaway at the Black Bullet a wraith they hadsought for months."They're certainly after me this time. Wonderif the note on that label was a plant?" he muttered,as he turned sharply and sprayed a wild hosing oflead in front of the nose of one particularlyoffensive Vought. The leader of the Navyformation now turned to clear, and Keen swungTArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 19379high again, fought to get clear of a wild fanfare oflead that came up from four spitting Brownings.He had to get away somehow. He could notturn on these Navy men, but neither could he bemolested in this manner. Time was getting shortand he knew Barney would be looking for him onthe dot of midnight. He was cutting it fine now.With one final lurch, however, he turned andhammered a long screeching burst through thecenter of the Navy formation, causing them to rollaway. Then he screeched through with his Aviawide open in an ear-splitting roar, drew backsharply on the stick, and sent the Black Bulletstraight up into the darkness, standing on her tail.One or two gunners tried to get a burst at herbefore she disappeared into the darkness, but mostof them were too amazed at the ship'sperformance.That instant of hesitancy gave Keen his break.He eased out of the climb, rammed in the Skodamutters, doused every light aboard, and skuttledaway before the Navy men could figure what hadhappened.He raced out to sea making the most of hisblinding speed and comparative silence and flewfor about five minutes before turning back. It wasalready midnight and he had to take some rarechances, for the Navy planes were still in thevicinity, believing that he had returned to somebase floating about somewhere on the surface ofthe ocean,He lowered his pontoons and headed for theisland which stood out stark and course. It had noparticular shape at all, and there was not a lightvisible anywhere. On the eastern side there was thedull outline of something that might have been alarge dilapidated building, perhaps an oldlighthouse. He circled this side with the Avia wellmuffled and his flaps down slightly to cut hisspeed. He swung carefully, inspecting the landbelow; then he consulted a Navy chart he hadbrought along to check the depths around theisland for landings.There appeared to be plenty of water. Hewould be able to get down Okay without fear ofripping the bottoms out of his pontoons.Two pin-points of light then caught his eye one green and two white lights blinking from acove a short distance from the indistinct building.He glanced down again and once more they wereflashed on."A green and two whites," he muttered."That's Barney's old signal. Well, if he says so,it's Okay with me."He cut the forward speed of the amphibianand let her glide in and drop gently on the rollersabout two hundred yards outside the cove. Thegreen and white signals blinked again encouraginghim to come in closer.Keen took no chances, however. Cautiouslyhe drew up his scarlet mask, tapped his bigautomatic reflectively, and eased in. Again thesignal flashes flecked out."Pulski?" called Keen carefully."Please hurry, Mr. Ginsberg," a dulcet voicecame back."Mr. Ginsberg?" repeated Keen. "What thedeuce!"By now the tide was swinging the BlackBullet dangerously close to the hard packed sandsof the cove. Keen took no more chances. He threwout a slim anchor, drew the line taut, and fastenedit to a latch on the outside of his cockpit. Then heclimbed out cautiously and stood on the wing."Pulski?" he said again."Please hurry, Mr. Ginsberg," the voicerepeated. There was no question now. It was a girl.EEN was uncertain what to do, but he wasinterested in that voice. It was pleading intone. There could be no treachery in a voice likethat.He dropped down into the swirling water andwaded up the beach, his gun drawn and alert.No sooner had he reached the edge of therollers and started up the sand when out of a breakin the rocks came a girl a girl who was slim andstately. She walked with the unmistakable graceand poise of one who was used to acclaim. In aglance Keen took all this in. She wore a suedejacket and riding jodphurs.She was young, no more than twenty. Shewas blond with aristocratic features. She wasstrong, yet moved like a gazelle. But above all,Keen had to agree she was probably the mostbeautiful woman he had ever seen.In a flash it came to him who she was MissDoreen Yardley, the heroine of Whispering Wings.The motion picture star whose name andphotograph had been emblazoned across everynewspaper in the country.KArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193710But Keen was not to be put off with the spellof beauty or motion picture prominence. He wason business and he was out for information."Where's Bar Pulski?" he demanded as heapproached the girl,"They've captured him. You were late. I hidin the rocks.""What's this all about, anyway?" Keendemanded."Didn't you come to get him and recover thebook?" the girl asked. It was evident that she wasplainly puzzled now. She pocketed Barney's flashlight, wrung her hands."Where's the tank-plane?" Keen snapped."It's over there, ready to take off. They havethat formula book and Mr. Pulski.""What the deuce is this all about?" Keeninquired, eyeing the girl through his goggles andmask. "You're Miss Yardley, aren't you? Don'tyou know that the police of New York aresearching for you everywhere?""I can't help that. We've got to get thatformula back.""How did they get it?""Through me only I didn't know what it waswhen I first received it. You see a man namedAnton Brussage, who used to be a scenario writerout in Hollywood stole it from Captain EdwardHillary, who was "" bringing it up from Washington," broke inKeen, "to take it out to Wright Field. I know thatmuch, But where does Pulski fit in with it all?""Well, this man Brussage changed the casesin the airline bus, got off in Hoboken, and, took theLackawanna Ferry down to Barclay Street. Therehe picked up this man Pulski, who was hangingaround the newsstand there, and asked him if hewanted to make an easy five dollars.""Go on," ordered Keen peering about. "Well,Pulski said he didn't mind, as long as it would nottake him too long. So Brussage explained that hehad a case that belonged to me Miss Yardley, themotion picture star.""Well," smiled Keen, "he picked the rightman. Pulski has about twenty of your picturesscattered about his room."A trace of a smile lit the girl's lips."Anyway," she continued, "Pulski agreed todeliver the case to me direct at the Palace Royalwhere I was doing a P.A. a personal appearance,you know. It was supposed to be my personaljewel ease, and I hoped to wear some of my moreexpensive items at a special dinner party they wereto give in my honor the following night at theRitz.""It doesn't make much sense yet," mutteredKeen."I know that, but you see, Brussage did notdare keep that case in his own possession too long,for fear it would be missed and traced, so he usedthat idea to get it out of his hands and yet keeptrack of it.""Do you know that the taxi exploded?""No, not until Pulski told me later. Anyway, Iaccepted the case and kept it in my dressing roomwith the idea of later taking it downtown toBenedict's that's the big jeweler, you know andhave one of the clasps repaired. On the way down,my chauffeur took West Street owing to the heavytraffic on Broadway and near Barclay street wewere.... well, we were simply held up, blocked off,changed into another car, driven downtown, andhustled into one of the warehouses facing theNorth River. There we were held as prisoners andlater when it got dark we were put aboard a cruisermotor boat and brought here.""You still thought it was a hold-up for yourjewels?""Yes. You see, I had asked Brussage who wascoming east, to bring them for me. I naturallythought he had done so and had used thismessenger because he was too busy to deliver themhimself. At the time I realized that he had takensomething of a chance, but I thought he knew thisman Pulski.""Well, it's getting clearer, but what about thetaxi blowing up?""We must hurry, you know," Miss Yardleysaid. "I had a few minutes to talk to Pulski backthere. Brussage drove up to the theatre with Pulskibut did not come in, using some excuse about notwanting to see me until that evening. He inducedPulski to use the same taxi to return to thePennsylvaniaStation where he could get a train to whereverhe was going.""And Pulski, still up in the clouds over havingactually seen and spoken to his screen sweetheart,"gagged Keen, "agreed.""Well, I suppose you could put it that way,"Miss Yardley modestly admitted, "but don't yousee, it was just a plot to get rid of him after he haddelivered the case. Brussage got out about a blockfrom the theatre and left a newspaper covering aArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193711box of some sort. This, no doubt, was thecontrivance he had devised to blow up the taxi.""I'll be damned!" snorted Keen. "How didPulski escape it?""He tells me he suddenly saw the box and toldthe driver about it. Then he says he suddenlyremembered he had to get something at Macy'sstore and so he got out at 84th Street and SeventhAvenue. The driver said he'd turn the bag over tohis office where it could be called for at any time.Then he drove away.""And a few minutes later the bomb in theback seat exploded.""Well, it exploded under the meter. You see,the driver had taken it from the back seat and hadput it up front where they carry luggage.""That explains some of it," muttered Keenglancing about again, "but there's still plenty toclear up. Now we'd better get going.""We've wasted too much time; but I can seeyou are wondering what part I was playing, orwhere I fitted in this picture. It's all crazier thanthat thing I played in, Whispering Wings, the girlsaid."I'm beginning to realize that," Keen said,hunching his shoulders. "But what about thisplace.... and Pulski?""Oh, won't you please do something? We canexplain all these things later. Don't you realize thatthey have Pulski in there and that they may getaway any minute. They're only waiting for theword.""Word for what?""I don't know.... the word to go, I suppose."ITH a last look back at the Black Bulletwhich was now riding easily at anchor, Keennodded and started toward the higher ground of theisland. They could just see the outline of the upperportion of the abandoned lighthouse which hadbeen used as the headquarters of the gang. Theyclimbed up the rocks together and tried to figure away to approach it without being seen."How did you get out?" Keen suddenly asked."Won't they miss you?"He still felt uncertain about this young ladywho seemed to have a reasonable answer to everyquestion."Well, I was allowed a certain amount offreedom. After all, you can't run away from anisland set out in the ocean miles from anywhere,can you?""No, I suppose not. Where was Pulski whenyou cleared out?""They had him tied up in one of the rooms. Idon't know how he got here,but they caught him prowling around andBrussage recognized him as the man he had paid todeliver the case to me. At first he was scared stiff,for he believed Pulski had been killed in the taxiexplosion."Keen chuckled under his breath. But thenthere came a new tune out of the darkness thebellow of engines and the scream of props."I told you!" the girl cried. "I told you!they're getting away! Look they're taking off!"Keen felt a wild surge of frustration. Hestarted to run forward as the big four-enginedbomber with tank attached rolled across an openstretch behind the abandoned lighthouse. He stooda moment watching it, then turned toward the girland called: "Come on, show me the layout of thatplace over there!"The girl came running up breathless and Keensuddenly snatched the flashlight from her hands.Quickly he twisted the colored lenses in the frontand pressed the button switch. He directed it full atthe climbing bomber and continued to signal,hoping that if Barney were aboard he would get anidea of what was going on.The big plane circled the lighthouse twice,then headed off to the north. Keen and the girlraced for the lighthouse, swinging open its door,and ran down the white-washed corridor."Straight through," the girl shouted. "Into thebig room beyond."Gun in hand, Keen banged on the closed door,then wrenched at the doorknob. It gave underpressure and he lurched inside.There was no one there.The room was large with several murkywindows looking out toward the sea. A largefireplace took up one of the narrow sides. Thefurniture appeared to have been salvaged fromwrecks, for there were several ships' chests, boxesbound with iron, a massive table, and generous-sized swing-seat chairs. There was a dankmustiness about the place that indicated that it hadnot been lived in for some time. There was a firestill crackling on the hearth and the smell of tinnedfood struck the nose.WArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193712"This is the main room. There are severalmore above, in what was the light tower," MissYardley explained. "They had Pulski tied up in theroom above.""Quick, let's look up there. He may still bethere," Keen said.They went up the stairs and entered a smallchamber with a narrow window at each end. Therewas a bed there, crumpled and drawn partly awayfrom the wall. Keen took the lamp, went all overthe wall near the bed. For several seconds hestudied the dirty plaster, then suddenlyconcentrated on a murky spot near the head."Look," he said quietly. "It's just as I thought.They're heading for Newfoundland preparatory toa hop for Europe. That plane is intended forsomeone over there probably one of the Spanishoutfits."The girl looked over Keen's shoulder andnoted crude figures, drawings, and wordsindicating the intended course of the men who hadstolen the great tank-plane. Barney had managed toscribble it there with a stub of a pencil before theyhad removed him to the plane."Well, there's no use trying to do much elsehere," Keen said starting across for the door again."What are you going to do?""Do?.... I can go with you, can't I?" she saidpuzzled."Not very well," Keen said quietly. "There'sroom, of course, but you'd be in the way.""I wasn't in the way when you were sittingout there looking for a signal, was I?""No, but you see I've got to make time tocatch them," Keen explained."I only weigh 110 and I am lightly dressed. Imight be able to help.... or are you going to warnthe Navy to head them off before they passNantucket?""They are probably past Nantucket already,and besides I can't tip the Navy chaps off. They'dprobably shoot the plane down and Bar.... Pulskiis aboard. That wouldn't do?""What are your plans to get him off?""I haven't the slightest idea. But I hope towarm one up before I catch them.""Then you'd better take me along to helpwarm it up," the girl smiled."Wrap up in anything warm you can get on,"Keen said crisply. "And let's be moving. I don'tknow what in Heaven's name I'm going to do withyou later on, though. After all, young lady, I amthe Griffon, a pretty ruthless character, you know.""You don't sound ruthless," the girl said,selecting a short thick seaman's jacket from a pegon the wall. "I've heard of you, of course. Everyonce in a while your name appears in thenewspapers. But I was under the impression thatyour name was Ginsberg at least that's what Mr.Pulski said.""You seem to accept unusual statementspretty calmly," Keen said. "I think you'll fit in allright, but I warn you that you'll be in for a warmevening.""Did you see me in Whispering Wings?" MissYardley asked with a smile."No!""Well, let's go," the girl said with vigor."After all, I have an interest in this expedition, youknow. I still have my jewel case to pick up, andMr. Brussage will have a lot of explaining to do.""If we get them," said Keen holding the dooropen gallantly.HEY hurried down to the cove again, and atthe edge of the water they both laughed as theylooked out to where the Black Bullet was swinginggently at her anchor."Well, there's no time for formalities," Keensaid. "Do you mind?""Let's go!" the girl chuckled.With that he lifted her in his arms and strodeout to the plane. He placedher on the wing and gave instructions forgetting into the rear cockpit while he released theanchor and turned the nose of the plane around.The engine caught quickly and he kept her inclose while the Avia warmed up. Then makingsure the girl was secure, he nosed around into thewind. They were away with a rush and withoutbothering to gain altitude he headed her north afterthe stolen tank-plane.He hooked Barney's helmet up with the phoneset so that he could talk to the girl. "Just sit tightand hang on," he advised. "If trouble starts, we'llhave to go through with it. You'll have to rely onme to get you out .... somehow.""Trouble?" the girl asked, once she had thebulky helmet arranged. "Do you mean from planeslike those over there?""Planes? Where?" gasped Keen."Those over!"TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193713Brat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!For the second time that night, the NavyVoughts converged on the Black Bullet. Keen justbarely had time to roll out of the line of fire thatspat at them, from the lead Vought."Holy Moses!" he exclaimed. "Here they areagain.""Who? Are they really firing at us?" the girlchattered."What do you think this is, a movingpicture?""Good heavens!"The Voughts bashed themselves at the BlackBullet again, and Keen swerved sharply andliterally ran the gauntlet of the formation."Why they're ships belonging to our Navy,aren't they?" the girl cried as she peered out of thetransparent coupe top."If they're not," Keen replied, "someone hasdone a swell job of painting."Whatever it was the girl was going to say inreply was not heard, for two more Voughts camehammering at them again from opposite sides.Keen spotted them, stuck his nose down, andripped the Skoda mufflers out. The Avia, gaspingwith back-pressure, took up the load witheverything wide open now. She bit in deeply andfilled her steel lungs with gulpings of power. Theterrific speed left the Voughts virtually standingstill.In a short time they were well in the clearagain and heading on with the northern shore ofMartha's Vineyard under their wings."Now keep your eyes open for the other bus,"advised Keen as he settled back for the long runnorth.* * * *HE man at the big control wheel of the tank-plane was surly, hard to talk to. He was staringahead at the man who sat behind the 40 m.m.Madsen cannon, fitted into the movable turret setin the nose. The man in the right-hand control-pitseat was trying to soothe him down."We were saps to leave that jane," the pilotsaid. "We should have taken a little time to lookfor her.""Forget her! What the hell can she do,wherever she is? We'll be over Cape Sable in notime. An hour at Nelson, and we're in the clear.""Yeh, but I still don't like it. That broad canstill sick the Navy guys on us, or even some ofthose Canadian Air Force guys. They got a stationsomewhere in New Brunswick; and if they'retipped off, they can still head us off from the fueldump outside Nelson.""So what? If it get's too tough, we can planther on the water near the Gontingen and clamberaboard with the formula.""Yeh, but we don't get paid for planting heron the water.""We'll get the dough for the book, won'twe?""Sure, but after all the trouble we took so far,I don't like throwing all this away. This is a swellboiler, Muggy.""I know.... I know. But there's still a niceslice of jack in the book.""Maybe you like the book. I like the boiler,and I think we was chumps to let that broadwander about like we did.""Don't worry, she'll be mooching about thatisland for a week before anyone finds her. She'llget a chunk of publicity out of it and everythingwill look just like that a gag. I tell you, Plunk,that was a swell idea. The cops won't give her atumble. They run into a million gags by publicity-seekers like that every year.""I still don't like it.""Okay. What are we gonner do about it now?It's too late, and we had to get away quick, `causeif that Griffon guy gets his hooks into us, we'regonners.""Well, don't let that Mick mug back there pullanything on you. He's a hostage, you understand?We may have to use him yet. I don't like thatGriffon guy.""I'd like to know how the hell the Mick gotup there to No Man's Land," the man namedMuggy growled. "Damnedest thing I ever heardof. He's the guy who took the case up to Yardleyand was supposed to `go up' in the taxi. I'll neverforget Brussage's face when we dragged him in."The pilot sniffed: "That's what gets me. Hemust have come in a boat, somehow, and hid thedamn thing somewhere. You see, that's what getsmy nanny. If that jane found that boat and gotaway, she could raise hell.""Um," mumbled Muggy. "I'd like to go backand punch that Mick who says his name's Pulski,smack in the eye."TArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193714"Well," grinned Plunk Maheffey, "you got agood chance now. He's tied up tight as a drumback there."UST at that minute, however, Anton Brussagecharged into the control pit. He was a sharp-featured man with long thin hands. He lookedweary and haunted, and a full day's growth ofbeard did not help any. He was trying to talk, butsomehow his mouth would not make any sound.Only his arms seemed to be able to indicate histerror."What the ... ?" Plunk Maheffey blarted out."What's up?""It's that guy the guy in the black bus. I justsaw the plane a short distance below us. He's onus, I tell you.""Well, what are you waiting for. Give him apacket from those lower turret guns."Muggy Minturn, the co-pilot, slipped out ofhis seat, darted under the instrument board, andwriggled his way up into the forward gun turret.He-warned the man behind the 40 m.m. Madsen tobe on the lookout ready to give the black planeeverything he could throw. Then he slipped backagain and followed Brussage down thecompanionway past the small but compact radiocompartment and came out in the main cabin."Where is he?" Minturn demanded, peeringout a side window."You'll find out," laughed Barney from hisuncomfortable position on top of a bomb locker."If you guys got any brains, you'll turn right backand put this boiler down where you just took offfrom. You'll never get away from him.""Shut up, mug!" Minturn snarled trying topeer back through the darkness."Look, there he is, climbing higher now,"Brussage pointed. "See, there's the glare from hisexhausts."Minturn stood and studied the oncoming ship,then slipped back toward the upper-rear gunmounting. He climbed up on the dural platform,loaded the Browning guns, and waited. The gunwas fitted to a cross-bar with a swivel attachmentand the barrel fitted through a long narrow slotrunning through the center of the domed glassturret.He drew a bead and let a wild screaming burstsing out toward the oncoming Black Bullet onlyto see the flame pennons from the Avia's exhaustveer over and swing away."The swine!" he growled as he stepped back.Then he glared at Barney again. He stood thinkinga minute, then whispered something to Brussage.For several minutes they consulted quietly andthen Minturn went back to the gun turret and begandismantling the gun mounting. He then swung therevolving glass turret so that the opening was clear.The two halves of the dome folded down into slotsin the side of the turret and left a normal opencockpit."Come on, mug," he said to Barney when hecame back. "Up on your hocks. You're goingoutside for some air."He yanked Barney up on his feet and steadiedhim while Brussage searched the side lockers formore rope.Barney stood there, his mind thumping outideas while Minturn released the bindings abouthis knees. The instant his legs were free he broughthis knee up quickly and caught Muggy full underthe chin."Gah-r-r-rg!" Minturn gulped and rolled overlike a pole-axed steer.Brussage stood terrified for a minute whileBarney lunged at him, one shoulder down like ablocking back. Brussage yelled and went down in aheap with Barney on top of him. Brussage, terror-stricken, fought and clawed at Barney's face like awild man and managed to gain time for Minturn,who had rolled over blinking, and bleeding fromthe mouth.Barney's arms were still lashed behind himand he was fighting mainly with his knees andhead. In no time he was a sorry mess of blood, buthe still fought grimly."Muggy! Muggy!" Brussage screamed, asMinturn staggered to his feet. "Get him, Muggy!"Barney got to his knees and poised for a crashat Muggy, but Muggy staggered at the last secondand Barney, missing him, went crashing across thecabin to bash his head against a sharp dural girder.Barney went out like a light, with a cruel gashopening across his forehead like a slowly grinningmouth.Both Brussage and Minturn took a breatherfor a minute, then struggled to get the unconsciousBarney to his feet. They managed to get him intothe rear turret and then went back for another coilof rope.JArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193715Together they threaded the heavy ropethrough Barney's arms and brought the ends backinto the cabin. Then hoisting him feet first, theyrammed him up through the gun mounting andplaced him outside, lengthwise upon the back ofthe fuselage. They laced him there securely andpeered up at the black plane that hovered overthem."There you are, guy," Brussage raged."There's something to shoot at.""You know," said Minturn, gasping, "I havean idea that bird up there might know who thismug is.""I hope he does. He won't try any funny stuffthen.""But how the hell they worked all this I can'tfigure. You run into a mug cold on West Street andkid him to deliver a bag to a doll in a theatre. Youset him down on a ticker hoping to blow him tobits, but in about thirty hours he pops up again onan island about a hundred and fifty miles away.Not only that but somehow he manages to sick thisbird on us again. There's something screwy,somewhere.""Yeh? Well, how would you like to be tied upout there?" gagged Brussage."I still wish we wuz down Okay at Nelson.Things have gone too smooth so far. It don't tasteright to me yet, even though we got that eggtrussed up out there.""Well, let's go forward and put Jimbo to workwith that howitzer of his. What the hell we got thatcannon up there for, anyway?"* * * *DON'T like this," the Griffon was sayingthrough his phones to Miss Yardley. "Therethey are, but what can we do about it if Pulski'saboard?""It's certainly exciting so far. They'll have tocome down for fuel some time, won't they?" thegirl asked, peering ahead at the tank-plane over thepilot's shoulder."What do you think we're going to run on?"the Griffon asked with a smirk."I hadn't thought of that," the girl replied."Look, they're firing at us again."A shell from the 40 m.m, Madsen crashednear them, and Keen had to clear again. Then as heswerved away he caught the ominous outline of afigure lying flat on the top of the tank-plane cabin.Keen snarled, reached for his glasses."Here, snap those night-lens filters down andsee what you make of that?" he said to the girl. Buthe had sensed already what it was, laying out there."It looks like a man a body," the girlwhispered. "Just a minute.... Yes.... It's Pulski.They've killed him and are trying to throw himoverboard. Oh !""Wait a minute," snapped the Griffon. "Wait aminute. He's not dead, is he? Look! His legs keepjerking up. They've tied him out there to hold usoff, the dirty swine!""But look that stain alongside the body.That might be blood. They've probably hurt himbadly.""They'd have to, to get him out there. I'll betthey knew they were in a fight," grinned theGriffon."But what can we do?" Miss Yardley pleaded."We can't leave him out there.""Sure! We'll just go down and clip him off.Nothing to it," moaned the Griffon, feelinghelpless. "Just go down and clip him off. Anyideas?""Did you see Whispering Wings?" the girlsaid suddenly. "I wore this costume throughoutmost of the picture.""No, I didn't see Whispering Wings. What doyou think I am, a movie moron?""Well you really missed something. I'll bet Icould pull it again.""Pull what again?" said Keen still peeringdown toward the tank-plane."That mid-air change to get the plans of thePacific fortifications the syndicate had stolen," thegirl said with excitement.The Griffon turned around sharply. "Youmean to say you actually pulled something like that no doubles?""Look here, young man," Miss Yardley said."We can't get away with that these days. Most ofthat went out with the Keystone Cops. We have todo plenty of stunts. I had a parachute, of course,but it didn't show in the film because the actionwas `shot' from the front.""You think you could get down there andrelease Pulski?" the Griffon said hollowly."Why not? There's enough room on the backof that bus to stage a dance contest. Can you getme down there?""IArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193716"I can slip you into Pulski's vest pocket ifyou've got the nerve," the Griffon said. "Here, youclimb into my chute harness as soon as I can slipout of it. Then I'll drop my pontoons and give yousomething to work from. Take my gun and the onein the cockpit holster there behind you and thatbig knife."As he gave the girl these instructions, he wasunfastening the straps of his harness and slippinghis arms out of it. The girl took it and with aprofessional air adjusted the straps to fit her andbuckled it over her suede leather coat andgabardine jodhpurs. Then she took the Griffon'skapok jacket and gun belt, slipped into them, andtucked the extra gun inside her jacket. The heavyhunting knife was slipped in a loop of the gun belt."Cut the ropes of his legs first," the Griffonadvised. "Let him roll over a bit before you cut therope that is holding him down. Understand?"The girl nodded grimly and tightened the beltanother notch."If you miss and go down, don't worry, I'llcome down and pick you up. But don't cut himloose unless he is able to take care of himself.""You watch me," the girl said gamely. "Youdidn't see Whispering Wings, eh? You think allpretty movie stars have doubles to take all theirrisks? Well, I'll show you, Mister Ginsberg-Griffon!""I'll swipe all of Pulski's photographs of you,if you get away with this one, baby!" beamed theGriffon, yanking the lever that lowered thepontoons. "I'll even go to see you in WhisperingWings.""Let's go!""Now look here. Once you make contact, I'llslam up front and blind them and give you plentyof time. If you get away with it, make them planther down somewhere along the beach on CapeCod, just this side of the Chatham Light, ifpossible. Then leave the rest to me.""You leave it to me, Mister Griffon," the girlreplied."All the best, sister!" the Griffon grinned,opening the rear portion of the cockpit top,"Thanks. Here we go for Whispering Wingsagain," she smiled,The Griffon steadied the plane while the girlclambered out onto the wing. He eased away froma long wild shot from the tank-plane's Madsen andwatched her slip down to the pontoon. In a minute,her head appeared again just forward of the leadingedge, and he knew she was crouching on the portpontoon where she could lower herself from theforward strut and drop to the back of the planebelow.Keen swerved around, dropped below the tailof the tank-plane, and slowly lowered his flaps.Then gradually he eased her forward well out ofline from the tank-plane's front gun and crept up tothe knife-like tail-fin, The seconds seemed to crawlby like hours, but suddenly he flipped his nose upto clear the fin and then eased back on the throttle.The Black Bullet seemed to hover a second, and ashot rang out from somewhere up front, sending astreak of fire hissing past the top of the blackamphibian.There was a slight jerk and the Griffonknew Miss Yardley had slipped off. He rammedthe throttle forward, the Black Bullet leaped away,and the Griffon pulled two levers.One drew the flaps up and the other released ablinding cloud of black smoke that completelyenveloped the tank-plane. He could hear the tank-plane's cannon barking at him somewhere behind.Streaks of saffron flame spat past him, but he hadto stay there to give the girl a chance to releaseBarney and get him inside again.He hung on as long as he dared, then swervedclear and climbed like a madman. He circled wide,came around again, and looked below. There wasno phosphorus signal flare down on the water,neither was there a bound figure kicking on theback of the tank plane,"Holy Moses!" he gasped. "She got awaywith it!"ISS YARDLEY made a perfect contact,landed lightly on the tips of her toes,sprawled forward, and clutched at the recumbentBarney, who simply gagged: "What the hell?""You all right?" Miss Yardley husked into hisear."Swell! The air's lovely. What the hell?"Barney gagged.Miss Yardley asked no more questions. Witha quick flip she severed the cords that boundBarney's ankles. Then she hung on with one handand helped him turn slightly with the other.Yanking the knife out of her teeth she slashedagain and shoved Barney forward. He droppeddown inside of the ship with a thud, and sheplunged in after him.MArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193717She sniffed, still choking from the smokescreen that the Griffon had laid over the plane tohide their coup. Then she got to her knees, rippingout a gun. A figure charged at them and she pulledthe trigger.A report rang out, and the man stumbledforward, collapsed in a heap at her feet."You're still playing Whispering Wings, eh,Miss Yardley?" Barney gagged, as he clamberedover the body of Anton Brussage. "Gimme one `othem guns and I'll join you."He snatched at the extra gun she lugged out ofher jacket and struggled forward. Muggy Minterncame out of the radio room and started to hurl alarge bar of iron. Barney stopped him cold with ashot that spun him around twice and hurled himinto a corner."Tie him up. Never mind the blood!" Barneyyelled."Mister Ginsberg said to make them put itdown along the beach this side of Chatham Light on the Cape," the girl screeched."Okay! Where's that other guy?" yelledBarney, reaching inside the radio cabin. The girlheard a scream and a heavy thud, and Barney cameout with the big automatic clutched by the barrel.He had clubbed someone into submission."And rope that bird up too," he barked,jerking his thumb toward the open door. "I'll sendanother through for you in a minute, A MisterPlunk Maheffey an old friend of yours.""He's no friend of mine," Miss Yardleygrinned, "but I'll be glad to slip him a littleattention."Barney ripped the control-pit door wide,shoved his homely mug through.Maheffey jerked around, glared into themuzzle of a big blue-black automatic."Okay, Maheffey. Lock them controls aminute and come out fer yer bindings. An' what'smore, I'll relieve yer of the little black book youknow, that nice leather-bound. book yer havetucked away in yer shirt there.""How the hell ?" Maheffey started to say.But Barney suddenly spun quickly, fired towardthe floor of the cockpit where Jimbo was emergingfrom the forward turret. There was a flash of flamein return from that opening below the instrumentboard. Maheffey let out a scream, plunged forwardover the wheel.Barney snatched quickly and pulled him off.He drew the wheel back gently and eased the shipout of her sudden dive."Too bad, Jimbo," he muttered, "but you werejust a bit too late and you hit the wrong guy."He held the wheel steady with one hand.Jimbo, the cannon operator, was now dead in thecompanionway that ran between the control pit andhis front turret."Okay, Miss Yardley," yelled Barney."They're all accounted for. We'll go down.There's Chatham Light." He fumbled with thecontrols for some time and finally found the touch.He reached over and jerked at the wave-lengthlever on the set near his left elbow and picked upthe hand-mike."Okay, Ginsberg," he reported. "Where'll Iset her down?""Along that stretch of beach just aboveHarwich there. How did it go?" came the replyfrom the Black Bullet."Swell. Didn't I tell you Miss Yardley had thestuff?""How do you feel?""Ouch! What a head! I hope you left that that container in the locker, there.""It's all there except the label," laughedKeen. "Put her down along that stretch and well-up to clear the tide."ITHIN ten minutes two planes slipped downout of the darkness and rumbled along thehard packed sands toward the shadows thrown bythe high cliffs. Keen was out first, leaving hisengine ticking over. He hurried to the cabin door ofthe tank-plane."Come on! Move fast! Here comes a CoastGuard guy down the beach. We had better leavethe tank-plane and get Miss Yardley back to well, somewhere near a railroad station."They're all tied up in there tight as drums,those that are still alive. Here's the book they wereall so keen about," barked Barney."Give it to Miss Yardley and for heaven'ssake, hurry!"Reluctantly they turned away after giving themassive tank-plane a last look-over. Then they rantoward the Black Bullet and clambered aboard.Miss Yardley and Barney had to huddle together inthe back compartment while the Griffon took offWArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193718before the amazed eyes of the Coast Guardsmanwho had hurried up.A short time later the Black Bullet droppeddown on the darkened runway of the Providence,R. I., airport, ran along for a few yards, thenhurriedly discharged a young girl dressed injodhpurs and a suede coat. Then the black planeraced away again and disappeared into thedarkness.* * * *UT I tell you I have no idea who theywere," Miss Doreen Yardley was saying toJohn Scott the next morning after she hadfreshened herself up on the ride down fromProvidence. "All I know is that they said theirnames were "" Ginsberg and Pulski," broke in DruryLang. "We know that part of it by heart. What wewant to know is who they really are and wherethey come from.""Ginsberg and " Miss Yardley started again.Drury Lang blew up."Yes.... Yes. But where did they come from?And where did they go to? That's what we want toknow.""Well, I first saw this man Pulski behind thestage at the Palace Royal that afternoon. Hedelivered what I believed to be my jewel case ithad been brought out from Hollywood.""Hollywood? What the deuce was this guyPulski doing out in Hollywood?""I don't know whether he was out there atall.""But you just said your case came out fromHollywood and that this Pulski guy delivered it.""Well he did. But he got it from a friend ofmine named Brussage, who somehow hasdisappeared.""Brussage? Why, that's the name of the guywho stole the case containing the formula theguy they found dead in the tank-plane last nightout at Cape Cod. What the devil does all thismean?""Don't ask me. They told me to hand thisbook to you. I don't know what it's all about. Buthere it is.""Look here, Miss Yardley," Scott broke inquietly. "Did you ever meet, or know, a man by thename of Barney O'Dare?""Who's that? Sounds like a character in amusical comedy.""You never met a man by the name ofO'Dare?""Never.""All you know is that you were kidnapped,taken on board a cabin cruiser to an island off CapeCod, and abandoned. Then you were picked up bya man named Ginsberg who flew a black plane ofsome sort. From there you were taken to theProvidence airport and left in the middle of therunway. Then they gave you this book and toldyou to deliver it to me here in New York. Is thatit?" asked John Scott, searching Miss Yardley withhis eyes."That's it exactly.""What's the matter?" said Scott slowly. "Yourlast picture, Whispering Wings, not going so well?""I think it's going swell. They're standing inline at the Palace Royal right now.""Well, you don't suppose we're falling forany such story as that do you?""I don't care what you do.""Well, considering that the plane wasabandoned somewhere on Cape Cod, reasonablyintact, and that we have recovered this importantformula, we'll forget that publicity yarn.""What about my jewelry?" Miss Yardley said."Do you think I threw it away?""Some of you movie people would doanything for a headline. Besides, I suppose it'sinsured, isn't it. Let the insurance dicks worryabout that. But if you ever meet a guy by the nameof O'Dare, and you recognize him, you tip us off,and we'll get you some real publicity.""Even if I could, I wouldn't pull a dirty tricklike that," laughed Miss Yardley. "Besides, I'mgoing back to Hollywood to-morrow. Things aretoo hot here in the east.""Yeh, ya can't get doubles to take the bumpsfor you out here, can you, Miss Yardley?" smirkedLang.The girl went out with a joyous laugh in hervoice, and Lang wondered what she meant whenshe said: "You're right, Hawkshaw!"* * * *OU heard what I said," barked Keen, asBarney suffered the first-aid ministrationsto his forehead. "You're packing a bag at once andgetting out of here as soon as you can get. Go"B"YArch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193719anywhere fast. And lay low for two or threeweeks. But send me a telegram, just so I can showit to old Lang. He still thinks you were moochingabout New York when that taxi blew up.""Well, he's right," gurgled Barney, grippingthe neck of an O'Doul's Dew bottle."Sure, but we don't want him to know it. Bythe way, why did you stop me from firing on thatplane the first time we saw it the other night?""I don't quite know now. Irish intuition, Isuppose. You see, the day before when that mugwas riding uptown with me to take that brown casein to Miss Yardley, he pulled out a wad of papersfrom his inside pocket to write her a note. Withthose papers was a photograph of the tank-plane,an' naturally I wondered what it was. I got a goodlook at it because it fell on the floor of the taxi andI picked it up.""I still don't get it.""Well, when I first saw that bus that night, Isuddenly got it into my nut that Miss Yardley wasa prisoner on board. When I left you after we gotback, I went back to New York and tried to findout where she was just a silly hunch. Then I sawthe papers all about her being missing, and thefact that her car was found abandoned down nearBarclay street.""But what gave you the idea she was onboard?""Well, soon after I got out of that taxi, I heardthe explosion and hurried along with the mob andsaw that it was the same taxi I had been riding in. Irealized at once that something was queer. I didn'tknow what to do about it, and I figured that if Itold the cops, they'd question me and finally theywould ring Miss Yardley in on it.""So you kept quiet to shield her. Cripes! Youmust be in love with her.""Shut up! You know I don't like cops.Anyway, I cleared off, but I somehow couldn'tforget the picture of that crazy plane and the more Ithought about it, the more I figured that this guyBrussage was going to use it to kidnap MissYardley.... for some cock-eyed reason.""Well, you were only partly right. How didyou find out that she had been held a prisoner andfinally rushed away in a motor boat?""Gee, that was funny. When I found out abouther being missing and her car being left down thereon West Street, I took a wander down that way andsaw the cops going over the car for fingerprints,and all that bunk. Then I cleared off again andfurther down West Street I ran into a drunk whohad a dump down under one of the piers a dockrat, if ever there was one.""So what?""Well, he's sittin' there staring at a twentydollar bill he said some guys had given him forletting them use his shed. I kinder gabbed with himfor a while and then got the story. These guys hadblown in late that afternoon and they had a girlwith them who was dressed in men's pants. I gotthe idea at once that this was Miss Yardley,because she still had on the costume she wore onthe stage the same one she used in the filmWhispering Wings. And then I really got hot."I found out that they had inquired about thisisland, No Man's Land, and how far it was. Theyhad a boat come around and left about teno'clock.""Why didn't you call me?""I spent so much time getting it all straightwith this guy and getting him drunker so that hewouldn't talk to anyone else. Then it was too lateto call you. I did try once, but you didn't answer.Cripes, how you can sleep!""But the next morning?""I tried twice again, but you were out, I guess.So I tore about getting a boat and then I realizedthat you might go down to see old Scott. I saw yougo in, but was too late to stop you. And I didn'tdare call Scott's number.""You were quite right,""Anyway, I knew you'd be coming out, andthe best thing I knew was to leave that note foryou, and beat it, for fear you might be shadowedlater. Igot a boat and got up there, but they nailed mewhen I was foundering around in the darkness.Miss Yardley recognized me and I told her youwould be there. I used your `Ginsberg' name, ofcourse, and slipped her my flashlight to signalyou.""Well, it all worked out okay but we werecertainly taking chances,""That's the fun of it, ain't it?" laughedBarney. "Now what do I have to do?""Get out of here. Take a train for anywhereabout 500 miles away and then send me atelegram. Stay away for about two weeks until thisgash heals a trifle and then you can ease back. Butfor heaven's sake act drunk when you arrive.""That's easy," grinned Barney. "Wasn't I`tanked' up for quite a while last night?"Arch Whitehouse Cavalry of the Clouds Flying Aces, March 193720"One more gag like that and I'll Well, getthe devil out of here. I've got a paper to prepare.But stay away from Miss Yardley for you'll runafoul of Scott and Lang if you don't.""What a gal! What a gal!" clucked Barney.Then he suddenly turned and pointed an accusingfinger at Keen. "And by the way, a couple of mybest photos of Miss Yardley are missing. Wouldyou know where they are?"