Page:Flying Death.pdf/165

 understood Donley's and Kinvarra's caution with me and, also the absent-mindedness of the ladies on the terrace. Before them lay loot—loot gathered in one place and put at their mercy—beyond dreams of buccaneers. Forty millions for the trouble of the taking; five or ten millions more, perhaps, if they bothered to despoil, personally, the passengers.

The airplane put the plan—almost any plan—within their power. With airplanes and bombs, and night to cover them, they could fly and at dawn do whatever it pleased them to do—if no warning went before them.

"Where's your father?" I asked her and she winced.

"Here; but I haven't seen him. They won't let me."

"They've locked him up?"

"Yes."

"Logan's here?"

"He's locked up too."

"Then they're locking me up."

"That's it."

"That all?" I asked.

"All?" she echoed and shivered. "What do you mean?"