red-headed and freckled-faced, declared. “He picked me up down on the Jersey coast and did his best to get me into a mix-up. I dodged him all the way to Bronx park because, you see, I was not quite sure of my machine.”

“Did you get a good look at the fellow?” asked Ben Whitcomb, grave-faced, athletic, and inclined to worry over troubles which had not yet materialized. “It looked to me as if you might have slapped his face, he was so near to you when you passed over Battery park.”

“Oh, yes!” Jimmie answered. “I got a view of his face from almost every angle! He’s a low-browed brute, with ears like wings, and a hunch in his shoulders which makes you think of one of the muckers at Croton dam.”

“He certainly can run a machine, though!” Carl Nichols declared, “and he has an aeroplane that can go some, too!”

“But what’s the idea?” asked Ben. “Why should he be chasing you around in that impudent way?”

“I’ve got a notion,” Jimmie replied, “that he wanted to try out the Louise. He resorted to every trick known to airmen to induce me to make some kind of an error in handling the machine. He’s an expert himself, and he evidently wanted to know whether I am capable of operating a peach of a flying-machine like the Louise.”

“I don’t believe it was just idle curiosity that made the fellow stick to you in that way,” Carl interrupted. “I’ve been thinking that the purpose of our trip to the Pacific coast may have become known to friends of Phillips and Mendosa, the men who are believed to have dynamited the safe of the Buyers’ Bank and murdered the night-watchman. The crooks may have men on guard here!”

“That seems hardly probable,” Ben suggested. “The police have a pretty good case against Phillips and Mendosa, and, so far as my knowledge goes, a crook who stands in the shadow of the electric chair has few friends willing to interest themselves in his behalf.”

“Yes, but look here,” Jimmie argued, “Phillips and Mendosa lifted thousands of dollars in currency. So far as the officers know they still have the entire proceeds of the robbery in their possession. Even murderers with so many dollars in their possession are not likely to lack capable friends.”

“I guess that’s right,” Carl put in, “and the two murderers will of course scatter money like water in order to keep out of the clutches of the law!”

“Yes,” Ben suggested, “the clues point so directly to Phillips and Mendosa that they would naturally spend every dollar they stole in order to keep away from the New York officers.”

While the boys talked, the door to the private office opened softly. Mr. Havens stood for a moment on the threshold and then stepped up to the fire. The young man was tall, slender and supple, with a dusky complexion and black hair and eyes. He was twenty-four years of age, but looked much younger. The millions he possessed had been inherited from his father, and instead of spending them along the Great White Way, he was devoting his entire attention to aviation.

“What’s the argument, boys?” he asked, standing before the grate with a smile on his face. “Machines working all right?”

“Finely!” replied Jimmie. “I had a fine ride over the bay this afternoon. The Louise motor runs like a watch!”

“I saw you from Battery park,” Havens answered.

“Then you must have seen the gink chasing me up?” Jimmie asked, tentatively.

“I noticed that,” Havens replied. “What was the occasion of it?”

“That’s just what we were