Читать книгу The Smugglers' Secret - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 3

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Hal saw it first against the frowning background of a black cloud, all that marred an otherwise perfect autumn-blue sky. The great tri-motored plane lingered in this shadow but a moment, then shot out into the sunlight and directly above the airport.

A sudden hush fell over the watching crowd below. The people seemed entirely to have forgotten the other half-dozen planes performing for their entertainment only a moment before; and now every eye was centered on the big white plane directly overhead as it circled into position.

At each turn a big black letter B could be seen upon either side of the wing. Hal thrilled with the rest of the crowd at this reminder of the pilot’s identity and he experienced a secret pride in the knowledge that a famous stunt flyer like Hank Bellair had not long ago talked with him as a friend.

Hal shifted excitedly in his seat and glanced covertly at Tony Marsh who was resting his arms upon the wheel of his sport roadster and scanning the sky expectantly. Tony suddenly frowned, however, and Hal followed the line of his gaze with troubled eyes.

Bellair’s plane had manoeuvred back into the shadow of the cloud again and seemed to be having some difficulty in getting out of that particular position. Tony would frown at a thing like that, Hal thought. Knowing his roommate as he did it was easy for him to deduce that young Marsh was having one of his frequent superstitious moments. The frown told the story.

“Wish he wouldn’t always circle back under that darn cloud,” Tony muttered darkly. “Don’t like the looks of it!”

Hal grinned. “What is it now, forty days of rain or something like that? Listen, Tony, if you mean that cloud’s a sort of jinx for Hank Bellair, you’re crazy! Hank Bellair is the flyer without a jinx, that’s what airmen say about him. He’s as lucky as Lindbergh. If you don’t believe me....”

Tony Marsh put up a warning finger. “Listen to that, Hal,” he interposed, “don’t that sound like his engine’s giving him trouble?”

Hal listened to the unsteady palpitation for a few seconds, then nodded understandingly. “Maybe he’s doing it himself. Shutting her off and on. He told me that he liked to kind of scare a crowd sometimes—likes to get them on edge just before he does his big stunts.”

Tony looked skeptical and continued to frown in silence. Hal smiled and leaned back comfortably, shading his eyes with his hands from the glaring blue of the sky. Bellaire had eased the plane into the sunlight again and a throaty “Ah!” issued from young Marsh’s direction.

As the plane swooped gracefully in a nose dive, Hal chuckled. “Great guy, Bellair, huh Tony? Reckless as they come. He showed me a funny kind of a mark he had tattooed on his right forearm. Said it kept away the jink. You ought to like him, Tony—he’s just like you in that respect.”

Tony laughed, but the laugh was ended abruptly by a new manoeuvre of the plane which had suddenly swerved in an upward climb. Hal held his breath during the dizzy ascent and shared young Marsh’s frown as the sky giant seemed to hesitate uncertainly. The crowd, too, watched with bated breath and as the flyer swooped in an outside loop a man standing near the roadster remarked that Bellair didn’t seem to be handling her as well as usual.

Tony looked at Hal inquiringly.

Hal shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know anything about it, more than we’ve all read in the papers,” he said. “I never saw him fly before, just spoke to him two or three times on the boat coming up from Panama last year. Thought he was a darn nice fellow, that’s all. Got you to stop here today for that reason.”

The man standing near the roadster began to make loud comments to a companion. “Nope,” he was saying, “Bellair ain’t up to snuff today, I can see that! Maybe he’s all broke up about that brother o’ his—Ted Bellair. It ain’t in the papers yet, but I got it straight that they’re looking for him in connection with the murder of that customs inspector last month up at the border. The saying goes that this Ted was smuggling something or other from Canada. He must be the bad lot of the family, hah? Good flier too, I hear, only not so good as Hank, I guess. Well, such is life!”

Hal nudged Tony. “Why buy a newspaper, huh? Or a radio? A gink like that is worth his weight in gold only sometimes he’s over-weight. Just the same I’d like to bet he can tell me one thing. Wait ...” He leaned over and called to the man. “Know whether Bellair is going to make a landing here afterward?” he asked.

The man smiled pleasantly. “He ain’t scheduled to, fella,” he answered. “A mechanic here told me Bellair sent word to the airport this mornin’ that he’ll do his stunts and beat it ’cause he’s got an appointment, so he won’t be down unless he comes down accidentally!” The fellow laughed uproariously at his own witticism.

Hal turned away scowling. “Some people have strange ideas of humor, huh Tony? Gosh, I’m darn sorry I won’t see Bellair to say hello. Thought I’d be able to introduce you too. Oh, well....”

“Well, is good,” Tony said without taking his eyes from the gracefully dipping plane. “I hope all goes well with the chap after that broadcasting. Some remark to make at a time like this.”

Hal smiled, pleased with the sturdy way in which the stunting plane had come out of her loop. She was now riding gracefully down the wind getting ready for the most daring of her feats, so they learned from their gossipy neighbor. The motors were roaring perfectly, it seemed—everything was in readiness. The moment had come!

She swooped, her shining white nose pointing earthward. The same hushed silence pervaded the crowd, one, two seconds ... What was it? It was time for her to be climbing upward again! Nearer and nearer to earth she came—nearer to the dusty brown field of the airport. Suddenly it came to Hal that this wasn’t any spectacular nose dive—it was stark disaster—falling to earth!

He shouted hoarsely and in a moment the crowd was swiftly backing away from that hurtling death. Women and children screamed, men roared and suddenly a dull boom sounded in the air.

A second later—a pile of burning débris fluttered to the dusty field, while a piece of broken wing with the letter B painted in black upon it—landed gracefully just inside the airport fence.

Hal leaned out of the roadster, then leaped to the ground impulsively, and ran.