Page:Flying Death.pdf/189

 steel: 7—15—10. A series of figures ran round the bands of the three circlets of steel which formed the fastening of my clamps. It was a combination circlet lock. The numerals in the napkin leaped with full meaning from my mind: 18—35—21.

I could not twist my fingers far enough to touch the circlets but I could bend and catch them in my teeth. I had to straighten and see how far I had revolved each band; and after fixing the first at 18, I turned it away twice before I fixed also the second at 35; and the last was the hardest; but I got the three figures in line—and was free.

My hands were free, that was; but I could touch no control. They were in front of me in the pit for the pilot who had taken me into the air and had leaped. I unbuckled the straps over my shoulders—and Kinvarra saw me. He saw that my hands were free; but he still had control of the plane.

Instantly he flung me forward, throwing me into a dive with engine on full. His idea, when I surprised him, was to crash me at full speed into the sea. If he had thought, at that