Читать книгу The Smugglers' Secret - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 4

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Hal was too handsome and too tall a figure to be refused a simple request such as he made. One respected him if only for his powerful physique and deep, commanding voice. Certainly the mechanic could not refuse him.

“Poor Bellair ain’t much to see now, young fella,” the begrimed employee explained. “I got orders not to let anybody go in till the coroner comes but if you say you were a friend of his....”

“Well, sort of a friend,” Hal said modestly. “You see, I thought he was a swell fellow and—well, I’d just like to take a farewell look, that’s all. I can’t believe it yet that he’s really....”

“The jinx gets the best of them sometimes,” said the mechanic grimly. “Even a guy like Hank Bellair can’t beat it at its own game when it means business, I’ll tell the world!”

Tony slipped his arm through Hal’s. “Guess that tattoo business on his arm didn’t keep it away after all,” he murmured. “We better hurry, Hal.”

Hal looked toward the little outbuilding in which the lifeless flier lay. “Mm, guess we better, Tony,” he said softly.

“In a hurry?” the mechanic asked pleasantly.

Hal smiled. “Just to get up in the wilds of the Adirondacks before dark,” he answered. “My friend and myself are roommates in college. We stopped here to see Bellair and talk to him if we could. Thought maybe he’d even like to spend his Thanksgiving vacation with us.”

The mechanic seemed to understand. “Well, that’s the way sometimes. Too bad that brother of his wasn’t the one, hah?”

“I’ve thought of that too,” Hal answered. “But Hank probably wouldn’t have had things different, anyway. He told me he’d do anything for his brother Ted.”

“Hmph,” said the mechanic contemptuously, “Ted and his tricky moustache. A conceited guy, that’s all he is. The kind of a fella you or me wouldn’t waste a breath on, hah?”

“Love is blind,” said Hal thoughtfully, “even between brothers.”

“You said something that time, fella,” said a man’s sharp voice behind them. “I’ve been thinking that myself—ever since I saw Bellair in there.”

Hal turned in time to see a short, stockily-built man pointing his forefinger toward the little outbuilding. A frown puckered his sallow brow and after a thoughtful scrutiny of the two young men and the mechanic, he smiled.

“You knew Bellair, eh?” he asked Hal.

“Sort of,” Hal answered wonderingly, “why?”

The man shook his head unsmilingly. “Curiosity,” he answered. “It’s a satisfaction to me to hear someone say they know one or the other of these Bellairs. Few seem to know much about them outside aviation.” He smiled and sauntered away.

Hal turned to the mechanic. “What’s the idea?”

The workman waited until the man was well out of hearing. “He’s a federal man, I think. He’s been hanging ’round here ever since this morning and the word’s been passed that he was waiting to ask Hank Bellair a few questions when he came down.”

“Well, he came down but not to answer questions,” said Hal. “I wonder what’s the idea of him asking me what I know about Hank Bellair?”

“He probably heard you say you knew him,” the mechanic answered. “He was standing in back of you two fellows for a little while before he spoke. I guess he’s out for all the information he can get about these Bellairs and he figured every little question helps.”

Hal shrugged his shoulders and slipping his arm through Tony’s led him over to the silent little outbuilding. Used as a sort of warehouse for the odds and ends of an airport’s discarded machinery, the gloomy interior was now plunged into a tomblike silence by the grim presence of Death. Disused tools and divers parts of antiquated planes loomed up grotesquely in the shadowy room and amongst this motley array of steel and iron, reposed the lifeless body of the flier.

They did not attempt to go further than the threshold, contenting themselves with a glimpse of the once strong young arms now lying inert and exposed under the covering. Neither one seemed to have any desire to see more. Hal glanced at the dangling hands, then backed away, thoughtfully.

“Going already?” Tony inquired softly.

Hal looked up, startled. “I—I, gosh, you frightened me, Tony,” he said in whisper. “Guess I was thinking about something else. It’s sort of spooky in here, huh? Come on, let’s go!”

They went out into the sunlight again, silent and thoughtful, and walked across the wide field until they reached the parked roadster. As Tony started the car, Hal glanced back toward the outbuilding, his wide, tanned brow furrowed in abstraction. Suddenly he saw something that brought him back to realities.

The detective had come from behind the building and was smilingly watching their departure.