CHAPTER FOUR of The Ark of the Covenant 
Two Clues 


I DID not mean to leave Dan Lamont that afternoon until we had gone over all the 
points of the robbery very thoroughly. I have the greatest respect for my 
friend's mind. 
One of the first things Dan did was to point out where I had made the very 
sap-headed break in my theorizing. When I told him that the sleep-producing gas 
was what had stopped the engines of the automobiles, he grinned at me in a sort 
of sarcastic way. 
"Are you chemist enough to tell me what there is in the air that enables the 
automatic engine to combust its gasoline?" he asked. 
"Don't be funny, Dan," said I, and innocently answered him, "Oxygen, of course." 

"Clever fellow, he purred. "And now will you tell me what the human engine gets 
out of the air to help its combustion?" 
Right there I saw where I had pulled the bone. It was obvious that a gas strong 
enough to deprive an automobile engine of its oxygen would have deprived humans 
of their lives. 
I dare say I deserved all the chaffing he gave me, but he rubbed it in all 
afternoon. 
By and by he was sprawling on the floor of his sitting-room, searching the 
newspapers for further information that might throw light on the mystery. He had 
managed to get his mop of flaxen hair so tangled up and over his eyes that he 
looked like one of those silky-haired Scots dogs. 
"A clue, a clue, a clue,--let's find a clue," he was chaffing me."Let's find a 
clue on which to base a reasonable hypothesis, my dear Jimmy. I said, mark you, 
a reasonable hypothesis. The gas that stopped the engines doped the bulls! It 
may sound all right--but the reasoning is just what might be expected from a 
mere mechanic. 
"Oh, shut it, Dan!" 
He shut one eye and recited at me: 
"The famous airman, looking for a gas, pulls a large bone and proves himself 
an--egregious mechanic!" 
"You might have rhymed," said I, and threw a cushion at him. 
"Oh, that that brain which did the ether penetrate 
Should ossify and fattily degenerate!" 
he finished and threw the cushion back at me. 
"I've found another curious robbery of last night that seems to have escaped 
you, you slug," said he. "Come and look at this, Jimmy." 
I got down on the floor beside him. He had one of the stubby fingers of his 
childish hand on a paragraph in a newspaper. This briefly stated that five 
thousand litres of high-grade gasoline had vanished in some mysterious fashion, 
during the night, from one of the big containers in New Jersey belonging to the 
Standard Oil Company. 
"That's a curious thing," said I. 
"It is a curious thing," Dan agreed. "Somebody gets away from the financial 
district with over three thousand kilos weight of gold--and on the same night 
some one else gets away with five thousand litres of gasoline. What do you know 
about it, son?" 
"Seems to be a craze for weight-lifting sprung up." 
"Looks like it," he murmured. "Now, here's another funny story--" 
He pointed to another paragraph tucked away on the same page. This reported the 
abstraction of a large amount of eatables from a big provision store, also in 
New Jersey, during the night, but here gold dollars had been left to pay for the 
goods taken away. 
"You're not connecting those two things up with the Wall Street affair, are you, 
Dan?" 
He took out his watch. 
"It's now twenty minutes to four," he said calmly. "We can be over beyond Newark 
inside the hour with my roadster, if you'll drive. We'll see if the things do 
connect up." 
At the gasoline station we got little information. Nobody could tell how thefuel 
had been taken. The station had been closed on the Sunday night, and had been 
left in charge of a watchman, the manager informed us, and thewatchman had sworn 
he knew nothing about it. 
"Did the watchman by any chance confess to having fallen asleep?" I asked 
themanager. 
"He swore he hadn't," said that official, "but I expect he did. If he didn't, 
he's in league with the crooks, and the police have got him." 
"Stop a bit," Dan Lamont interposed. "You're perfectly certain that thegasoline 
has been stolen? Isn't it possible that some mechanical device in the tank has 
failed, that the oil has slipped back to supply?" 
"We thought of that," said the manager, "and the mechanism has been thoroughly 
overhauled. But there isn't any doubt that the outlet pipe was opened in the 
night and the gasoline taken away." 
"The watchman is unshaken in his statement that he did not fall asleep?" Iasked. 

"Oh, yes. He's fixed on that--but he might be lying, don't you see? He's 
supposed to be awake all night, and to make his rounds at definite intervals.If 
he had fallen asleep, he wouldn't like to confess it." 
"Where has he been taken to?" asked Dan. 
"He's at the local station."
"Right," said Dan. "Let's go there, Jimmy." 
The watchman was an elderly Irishman, and just the type one would expect to find 
at the job. He was stubborn to begin with and refused to talk at all. It was the 
merest chance that Dan addressed me by my surname, and at that the old boy's 
attitude changed. 
"Are ye Mr. Boon, the flyin' man?" he asked. 
"That's me," I admitted, "unless there's another of the name." 
"But are ye the Mr. Boon that has the works out at the top end av LongIsland?" 
"That's me." 
"Well, ye've got a son av mine workin' for ye--name av McGinty!" 
"McGinty your son?" said I. "Well, he's a good fellow, Mr. McGinty, and one of 
my best mechanics." 
"Ye make me proud to hear it, sorr," said the old man. "He swears by you, so he 
does." 
After that, everything was easy. The old man admitted that he'd fallen asleep 
about one o'clock in the morning, but that he didn't understand how it happened. 
We pointed out to him that it would be better to confess to having fallen 
asleep, rather than leave the idea that he was in league with the gang that had 
emptied the tank. He then said he had been sound asleep between oneand three in 
the morning. We questioned him closely, and began to have little doubt that he 
was victim to the same dope that had put Wall Street to sleep. He had not heard 
of the bank robberies. We left old McGinty with the assurance that he was not to 
blame in any way, and that there was every prospect of speedy release if only 
he'd be frank to the questioning of the detectives in charge of the case. 



Theories 
DAN and I spoke to the officer in charge of the district, and got a promise from 
him that he would put the idea to the investigator who had the matter in hand. 
"It's just as well that you've got that out of the old man," said the police 
officer. "It seems to me that we're on the way to saving two of our bestmen." 
"How's that?" 
"You'll have heard that Schomberg's Stores were broken into about two this 
morning?" 
"Yes. To find out what we can about that is part of our business over here." 
"Well, you can hardly call the affair a robbery," the inspector said, "what with 
money being left to cover the loss and damage to the Stores. But how the place 
was broken into without the complicity of at least two of our patrolmen, we 
don't know, and we didn't like the idea. After the news came out about the Wall 
Street affair, these two men came back with a confession that they'd been 
asleep, but we had a suspicion that they had only seized on the chance to clear 
themselves. It did seem a bit far- fetched that the gang that doped the folk 
around Wall Street, and got away with the haul, would bother to raid a New 
Jersey provision store and leave money to pay for what they took. But if the old 
man didn't know about Wall Street, before he admitted he'd fallen asleep, the 
chances are that he's telling the truth." 
"There was no watchman at Schomberg's Stores?" 
"No, the place is shut up at night--nobody left on the premises." 
"Could we see two patrolmen in question ?" asked Dan. 
"Easy," said the inspector. "They sleep at the station, and are sort ofconfined 
to barracks." 
A short interview with the two policemen convinced my friend and myself that 
their story was true. They had concealed the fact of having fallen asleep in 
fear of losing their jobs, and it was only the news of Wall Street that had 
given them the courage to tell the truth. 
Dan and I had heard as much as we needed and as we drove to the Cortlandt Street 
Ferry at an easy pace, my scientific friend weighed the thing up. 
"They do connect up, Jimmy," he said.
"I'm sure they do," I agreed. 
"They link up, so far, only through the use of the anaesthetic," he went on. 
"But I can find no sane connection in the things stolen. Two and a half millions 
in gold, a hundred kilos of provisions, and five thousand litres of gasoline. 
It's a mad thing, however you look at it." 
"It's crazy," I admitted. "Jackdaw crazy." 
"If we could find out what they wanted with such a queer collection," said 
Dan,"we'd be on the track of what they are." 
"Suppose," said I, "that it's a gang with headquarters in the country somewhere, 
a regular band of raiders operating on a large scale. They have a fleet of 
trucks, each equipped with the latest appliances for bank-breaking. They want 
the gasoline for the fleet of cars, and the provisions for feeding the gang---" 
"A concentration of that sort would immediately arouse suspicion in the country, 
Jimmy." 
"I don't know so much about that, Dan. It might be quite an innocent-looking 
factory, or foundry, with accommodations for the men---" 
"Yes, asking folks to notice it by never dealing with the local stores--" 
"Shucks, Danny!" said I. "Look at my own experimental shops. Right on a lonely 
strip of beach, and two or three kilometres from the nearest village. Except for 
a government inspector or two once in a way, nobody ever comes near me--and half 
my men live on the premises." 
"Yes, but your experimental shops don't come under the factory laws. None of 
your men belong to a trade union, you've told me?" 
"That's right." 
"Well, if any gang of crooks got up a stunt such as you imagine, it would be 
difficult to escape detection in the ordinary routine of factory inspection. 
"But, listen, Dan! If I wanted to go in for bank-robbery, it would be easy 
enough--given that I had a dope---" 
"Great snakes, Jimmy!" Dan exclaimed. "You're on the business for sure! Could 
you land that new bus of yours in Broadway?" 
"I'll bet you five thousand dollars I do--with wheels instead of floats---" 
"What would your new bus carry?" 
"In her present condition, without her fighting kit, about three thousandkilos, 
besides a crew of six." 
"Then two buses such as the Merlin could have made that robbery in Wall Street 
and Broadway possible?" 
"Sure," I said. "And, what's more, could be in the Rockies by this time---" 
"Then we're on the trail, Jimmy--" 
"Yes--if we wash out the question of the gasoline, Dan. There's a difficulty 
there. And, besides, there's only one Merlin--unless somebody has stolen a march 
on me. But say that somebody has a design as good. It's not only a question of 
lift, remember, but of taking off down Broadway. But say the supposed machines 
could. Do you see them dropping into that New Jersey gasoline station and 
getting away with five thousand litres of oil? I don't. I don't see even five 
Merlins doing it." 
"What about a helicopter." 
"The helicopter is a washout as far as lateral speed is concerned. It hasn't 
been applied successfully to a plane yet." 
"Airship then?" 
"More like it--but, phew !--you're getting up a whale of a theory, Dan!" 
"I know that, Jimmy," said he, "but it's a whale of a robbery." 
By this time we were at the ferry, and our discussion was shelved in the 
business of getting aboard the waiting ferry-boat. Once on Manhattan, we drove 
straight for the Metallurgical National. When Dan and I got into my father's 
room, we found the old man looking a bit worn. 
"I won't be ready for you until seven, Jimmy," he said at once. "And I've a lot 
to do before then. Wall Street has gone mad, and there isn't a thing on the list 
that hasn't dropped. There's been a run on the country branches of all five 
banks, and some of the others as well. I have a meeting of bank presidents at 
six." 
"Righto, dad," I said. "We'll clear out---" 
"If Dan and you are on something new, why not bring him over to Hazeldene for 
the night, and let's do our talking there?" 
"How about it, Dan?" 
"Fine," he said. 
"But your analysis of the tarnishing?" 
"My fellows can do the tests all right. I'll take a run up and see how they've 
got on, and fetch my kit down here." 
"I'll come with you, then. The landing-stage at seven, dad?" 
"I'll be there, son," and with a nod to Dan and myself he became immersed in his 
papers again. We were just going out of the door, however, when he called us 
back. 
"Perhaps you'd better take the elevator to the top of the building and see the 
janitor, Klenski. He has some weird story about houses hanging from the sky, or 
something. He's no temperance advocate, Klenski, but you might get something out 
of it." 
Dan and I exchanged a look and bolted for the elevator. 



The Tale of the Finn 
UP on the roof, we found Klenski, a Finn, born in America, whose faded blue 
eyes, uncertain movements, and indistinct voice showed at once the soaker. The 
man was eaten into by alcohol. 
"What was it you saw last night, Klenski?" I asked him, as soon as we'd got him 
out on the roof. 
He pulled in the corners of his mouth, in an effort to stop the twitching of the 
lips that always preceded his speech. 
"A cabin--like a rail'ay coach--smaller--'ging b'ropes f'm sky . . . " 
"Where was this? At what time?" 
He butted his head towards the railings on the parapet wall. 
"There ?" 
He nodded jerkily. 
"What time was this, Klenski?" 
"Las'ni--'smorning--s'm'time--coonsay . .. " 
"About three this morning, maybe?" Dan insinuated. 
Klenski turned to him gratefully, and chucked a jerky nod at him. 
"What were you doing about at that time?" I asked him. 
"G't up t'git s'm'thing--c'm'out see what s't night 'twas--saw cabin--like 
rail'ay coach c'min' down out'n sky on ropes--'slike that . . . " 
He made a jerky downward gesture of the hand. 
"Did you look up to see where the ropes came from?" 
He shook his head and gazed at the concrete under our feet. 
Dan pointed up at the sky, thinking the man did not understand. But the eyes of 
the Finn did not follow the hand, and we realized that the man could not bear to 
look up at the sky. I'd seen the same disability in an alcoholic before. 
"Well, what happened then?" Dan asked gently. 
"Went over to railings 'nd looked down. 'N blue wall came over my eyes. 'Sall. 
Went back t' bed. Cold." 
"Blue wall ?" said Dan. "What sort of blue wall?" 
The Finn gazed at him pathetically. 
"Blue wall," he said in his gentle indistinct way. "Blue wall . . . other side 
'frailings. Down--down-- 'slike that . . . " 
Again he made that downward gesture of the hand. 
"Did you hear any noise?" I asked. 
The lips twitched desperately, and a silly smile came into the Finn's face. 
"Whisper--whisper--'sper. Binz-z-z!" he imitated. "'N I d'n' know any more, 
please." 
We left it at that, for it was painful to talk to the man, he had such terrible 
difficulty in talking--or even thinking. 
"Dare we interpret the maunderings of that dipsomaniac into evidence for the 
airship idea, Jimmy?" Dan asked when we were in his roadster again. 
"Let's," said I, "and see what it leads to." 
"He got up for another drink, you know," said Dan. "It might all be drunken 
imagination." 
"Possibly. The only concrete thing about it is the cabin--which might be the 
gondola of a dirigible." 
"And the blue wall, Jimmy--the blue wall? Some effect of alcohol on the eyes, 
maybe?" 
"Maybe," I agreed. "Unless--unless what he saw was the side of the airship--- " 
"Could an airship venture so low?" 
"How can I tell Dan? If the crooks came out of an airship at all, it would be 
less likely to be spotted if it came as low as possible over the area of 
operations, where all the inhabitants were unconscious. The higher it remained, 
the wider the field from which it was visible. You've got to remember that the 
Metallurgical is only a little less than the Woolworth, and that the few 
overhead cables still in existence are well under roof height. Say your supposed 
airship had a width of just under thirty metres--there's nothing to stop it from 
nestling in Broadway." 
Dan let out a chuckle. 
"Columbus! This is deep stuff, Jimmy. We'll have to do a lot of sleuthing before 
we're through." 
"I'll tell you what, Dan. I'm going to get Dick Schuyler on the phone and ask 
him to join us tonight at Hazeldene. With the old man and Milliken we'll have a 
fine old council of war--a regular powwow." 
"Has Dickie any sense?" 
"You bet you," said I. "Dickie not only has sense, but he knows more about 
lighter-than-air machines than I do. I don't favour that sort of flying at all." 

When we arrived at Dan's laboratory, he went off to see his research merchants 
who had been working on the tarnished gold. I didn't go with him, being on 
thephone to Dick Schuyler. I was lucky enough to find my man at home with his 
squadron, and he fell in with the idea of joining the party at Hazeldene. 
"I'd like to come across on your new bus, Jimmy," he said, "but I'm on duty 
again at five in the morning. I'll fly over on my own bus if you can berth her 
for me." 
"Tons of room, Dick," I told him. 
"When do you start for Hazeldene?" 
"At seven from the Battery stage." 
"Right," said he. "I'll start with you." 
"Very well, old son," I said. "We'll wait for you at the other end." 
I heard a splutter come over the phone. 
"Now, what the devil do you mean by that, Jimmy Boon?" Dick demanded. "I have to 
inform you that my bus is the quickest thing in the service." 
"Can she do five hundred per?" I asked casually. 
"Good Lord !" he yelled. "Can the Merlin?" 
"Start at seven and see for yourself," said I, and rung off. 
Dan came back just then, but had no discovery to report. 
"My fellows are in the air," he said. "That locket and coin of yours have got 
them going. There seems to be the faintest trace of a radio-activity filming the 
gold, but they have not determined what it is yet. I've indicated new tests, and 
they'll work late on them. The thing's a puzzle." 
He went off to pack a kit-bag, and while I waited I ran through some newspapers 
we had brought on the way up town. The columns were crammed with talk of the 
robbery, and it was evident that business was badly jolted. Every paper spoke of 
the "panic" on Wall Street, of the run on the branches of the banks, and none of 
them could make head or tail of the radium mystery. Since the passing of the 
Personal Liberty Laws, which restored to Americans the right, among other 
things, to drink when and where they liked, and what they liked, the newspapers 
had not shown such scare lines. But in all the mass of written stuff there was 
not a single helpful word. 
The phone buzzer went, and I found my father at the other end of the wire. 



Ready For Business 
"SAY--is that you, Jimmy? Your father speaking. Is that new plane of yours up to 
picking a passenger off a liner which is now thirty-six hours away from Sandy 
Hook?" 
"That'll be about fifteen hundred kilometres away--eh?" 
The old man swore. 
"Durn your new-fangled measures, son," he said. "I make it nine hundred American 
miles---" 
"Same thing. When do you want him to be in New York?" 
"Could you land him at the Battery at ten tomorrow?" 
"Yes. I can pick him--or her--up in good time for that." 
"I said 'him,' Jimmy. Lord Almeric Plauscarden, deputy governor of the Bank of 
England, it is. He's on the Parnassic due off Sandy Hook on Wednesday morning." 
"Right. I'll do it." 
"Thank you, son. I'll radio him to expect you--when?" 
"Just before six to-morrow morning." 
"Good. See you at the Battery presently." 
If the old man had patted me on the back physically, he would have pleased me 
less. There was something in the casual way he had proposed the trip, a 
certainty of my straight answer, that made me feel good and chesty. I'm sure if 
I had said no, he'd have taken it as casually. 
The feeling had not worn off when Dan Lamont came back with a small kit- bag in 
his hand. 
"What's the smug contentment for, Jimmy?" he asked. "Have you just heard that 
the President has resigned and that you've been offered the job?" 
I told him, and his eyes lightened up. 
"Say, Jimmy," he pleaded, like any kid, "I'm coming with you, old man-- you're 
taking me with you, aren't you?" 
"It means starting about three in the morning, Dan." 
"That doesn't matter, Jimmy. I'd like to come along." 
I said he could, and he danced a little breakdown to show how pleased he was. 
Dan Lamont's an awful kid in some ways, for all his high position in the 
scientific world. 
We drove down to the Battery in good time, and waited to see the Merlin come in. 
Dan's man drove the roadster away, and presently my father arrived. Dick 
Schuyler had his seaplane moored a little way along, and he waved his hand. 
In a little time I spotted my bus like a dot in the clouds, as Milliken came 
speeding across Brooklyn, before turning north into the Upper Bay. He was flying 
good and high, and to an outsider seemed to be overshooting the point for making 
a safe angle. I took a look out of the corner of my eye at Dickie Schuyler, and 
he was standing up in the cockpit of his boat, yelling to attract my attention. 
"What's the matter, Dickie?" I yelled. 
"That your boat?" 
"Yes." 
"That fellow's going to crash her--too steep an angle?" 
I waved my hand serenely, and he dropped back into his seat to watch, open- 
mouthed. I fancy he expected to see Milliken turn back or spiral to the right 
height for planing into the landing-place, but he stood up to watch again when 
the Merlin began her hovering flight down. My father touched my arm. 
"That's something new, Jimmy?" he asked. 
"Two years' work in that, dad," I said. 
He just patted me on the shoulder. 
The Merlin touched the water about twenty yards out, and taxied slowly up to the 
jetty. The landing-stage crew turned her, and we all got aboard, Milliken giving 
up the pilot seat to me. I waved my hand to Dickie Schuyler to show that I was 
ready, and we both took off together. In that particular flight we didn't go 
much above four hundred kilometres per, but we left the police boat well behind. 
In fact, the Merlin was berthed and we were all on the jetty waiting when Dickie 
landed. 
"You've got some bus, Jimmy," was all he said at that time--but he had a lot to 
say later on. 
This projected trip out to the Parnassic knocked my idea, of making Milliken one 
of the council of war, clean on the head. I might have trusted another of my 
fellows to go over the Merlin preparatory to the flight, but I knew that 
Milliken would not let anyone else do it. An extra gasoline tank had to be 
shipped and fixed with new connections, and the job wanted a sure hand. 
Milliken promised that everything would be ready by three o'clock, and picked 
out a squad of the more skilled mechanics to do the work. He took it for granted 
that he would come with me on the flight, and I knew that it would be useless to 
argue with him, but he agreed to take a bit of sleep when the job of fixing the 
extra tank was well in hand. So I had to leave it at that. 
We had to let Dick Schuyler get off his opinions of the Merlin at dinner before 
we could fall to discussing the robberies seriously. And I am afraid that the 
dinner was unduly prolonged before I satisfied his curiosity by the aid of a 
whole thick pad of scribbling paper. The funny thing was that neither the banker 
nor the man of science seemed to be bored by the arguments. Dan and my father 
were as keen as a mustard box. 
When at length we had the Merlin thoroughly explained, we were ready for coffee 
and other drinks in the smoking room, and there Dan and I put forward our theory 
of the robbery. 



The Air Wins 
"PINKERTON & Co.," said Dick. "I'm pleased to meet you. I often wondered who you 
were. Well, well--so you're only you, after all!" 
"Don't you think it's feasible?" I demanded. 
"Ah, if you come to feasible--it's just feasible, Mr. Pinkerton--or are you the 
Co.?" 
"I wish you'd quit kidding, Dickie," I said. "Do you consider the notion 
reasonable?" 
"Reasonable? Mr. Pinkerton, I--"
Then Danny and I both sat on him. 
"I'll be good--I'll be very good !" he yelled presently. "Shurrup, Jimmy! Stop 
it! I'll be good!" 
We let him go, and after telling us that we were a couple of thugs, he became 
very sound on weights and gases and hot air of that sort. He had the latest 
statistics about dirigibles at his finger-tips. 
"I think you may discount the Finn's blue-wall idea. It would be very dangerous 
for a dirigible of any size worth talking about to come down so near the 
buildings. On a night like last night, with the wind there was, there would 
always be a good deal of drift, and a dirigible is not the sort of thing you can 
push away from a wall, as you do a ship's boat from a quayside." 
"I'm inclined to agree with you," Dick went on, "that the Wall Street robberies 
are linked up with the gasoline and store affairs in Newark. The dope links them 
up. But why drag in an airship to explain the possibility of the job being done 
by one gang--to explain the need for the gasoline? I can't see an airship 
dropping down on Newark and not being spotted. You've worked out that one four- 
thousand-kilo truck could handle the gold?" 
"That's right," I said. 
"How far is the gasoline station from the bay side?" 
"Not far, but it stands on a canal running into Newark Bay." 
"That will do my business," Dick said triumphantly. "Suppose we just put a jolly 
old motorship--not big--say about twenty tons--alongside our nice little 
gasoline station. On land, we have our four-thousand-kilo truck. The motor-ship 
drifts down to the gasoline station, and whangs in the dope--gas, or whatever it 
is, then proceeds to run a pipe up to the tank. It takes its fuel. In the 
meantime the gang with the truck is operating on Schomberg's Stores. When that 
is done, the truck moves off across the Hudson by the Cortlandt Street Ferry, 
which runs all night. It drops its dope in Broadway and down Wall Street. The 
gang bursts the banks and collects the goods, and off out of the district to a 
private wharf, say, on the Jersey City side of Newark Bay, to where the jolly 
little motor-ship has swum over. The little lugger is loaded with the booty, and 
drops down either side of Richmond--and there you are!" 
"Now, do you know," said Dan Lamont, "that's a very pretty story, Dickie--and 
very well told, too! But how do you get over the fact that all the automobile 
engines stopped in the doped district ?" 
"Ours is a special automobile ours is! Maybe it's an electrically-driven 
truck--" 
"It now appears," my father interposed, "that the street cars down Broadway were 
stopped below Post Office Square, nobody knows how." 
We all turned to stare at him, for we had almost forgotten his presence, he was 
so silent. Dan was the first to recover. 
"That washes out your electric truck, Dickie," he said. 
"You can have your airship," Dick said. "When you get crooks that can dope a 
whole district, stop automobiles and electric cars, spread stickfast, so to 
speak, on all movement for two hours over an area of a square kilometre--what's 
to prevent them having an airship that can nestle down on Broadway? Have your 
airship--but do think tenderly of my little motor-lugger. I was so fond of it." 
"What do you think of it, Mr. Boon ?" Dan asked my father. 
"I think the difficulty of concentrating, and of getting away undetected, points 
to an approach from an unexpected quarter--so I say the air. The Finn's dream is 
too exact to be alcohol. It's simple. Just a cabin coming down from the 
air--then a blue wall--and some noises that to my layman ear sound uncommonly 
like machinery. No alcohol dream that. So I say the air. Seems to me that 
whatever theory you try to develop, you always get about half-way with it. But I 
have a hunch that the solution will be found in the air. Dick showed more 
surprise over Jimmy's new seaplane than over the whole robbery. Why?" 
"Because Jimmy has evolved a new principle, sir," said Dick. 
"Well, Jimmy hasn't got the monopoly of brains in the world. Maybe somebody's 
evolved a new principle for dirigibles," said the old man. "I'm going to have 
one more drink. Then I'm going to bed. And if for-once I may play the heavy 
father, I'll advise you all to do the same. Seven hours from now, Jimmy has got 
to be six hundred miles out at sea." 
"So have I," said Dan Lamont proudly. 
We all had another drink, and the old man told us exactly how he got on the long 
green in four and holed out with a handsome putt for a five.