Ty clenched his hands. “Oh, God, if only you weren’t a woman.”
“You seemed thankful enough just now that I was a woman,” said Bonnie coldly. “That was quite a kiss you gave me.”
“The cameraman asked for it!”
“Since when do you follow a cameraman’s orders?”
“Listen!” yelled Ty. “I wouldn’t kiss you of my own free will if I hadn’t seen a woman for five years. Your lips tasted like two hunks of rouged rubber. How your leading men can keep kissing you in front of the camera... They ought to get medals for exceptional heroism in line of duty!”
Bonnie went white. “You... You—” she began in a fury.
Some one coughed behind them. They both turned around. They both blinked.
A tall figure in heavy flying clothes, wearing a helmet and goggles, hands gloved in fur, stood there widelegged and still. One hand pointed a revolver at them.
“All right, I’ll bite,” said Ty. “What’s the gag?”
The revolver waved a little, with an unmistakable meaning: Silence. Ty and Bonnie drew sharp breaths simultaneously.
The figure sent a chair skittering across the hangar floor. The revolver pointed to Ty, to the chair. Ty sat down in the chair. Bonnie stood very still.
A bundle of ropes, cut in short lengths, came flying through the air from the tall figure and struck Bonnie’s legs. The revolver pointed to Ty.
Ty jumped out of the chair, snarling. The revolver covered him instantly, trained on his chest.
“Ty,” said Bonnie. “Please. Don’t.”
“You can’t hope to get away with this stunt,” said Ty in a thick voice. “What do you want, money? Here—”
But the weapon’s weaving eye stopped him. Bonnie quickly stooped, picked up the ropes, and began to bind Ty to the back and legs of the chair.
“I see,” said Ty bitterly. “I see the whole thing now. One of your little jokes. This time, by God, you’ve gone too far. I’ll put you in clink for this.”
“That revolver’s no joke,” whispered Bonnie, “and I may play rough, but not with guns. Can’t you see he means business? I won’t bind you tightly—”
The revolver poked her between the shoulder-blades. Bonnie bit her lip and bound Ty tightly. A prepared gag materialized in one gloved hand. She gagged Ty.
Things blurred. It was absurd — this deadly silence, this tongueless figure, the menace of the revolver. She opened her mouth and screamed. Only the echo answered.
The figure was upon her instantly, however. Glove over her mouth, she was forced into another chair. She fought back, kicking, biting. But soon she was strapped to the chair, as gagged and helpless as Ty; and the figure was stooping over Ty, tightening his bonds, adding others.
And then, still without a word, the figure pocketed the revolver, raised one arm in a mocking salute, and darted out of sight behind the tarpaulined biplane.
Ty’s eyes were savage above the gag; he struggled against the ropes, rocking the chair. But he succeeded only in upsetting himself. He fell backwards, striking his head against the stone floor with a meaty thunk! that turned Bonnie’s stomach.
He lay still, his eyes closed.
“Here he comes!” shouted Jack, his arm about Blythe as they stood on the movable steps of the plane. “Ty! Come on!”
“Where’s Bonnie?” screamed Blythe. “Bon-NIE!”
“Crowd’s got her. Ty!”
The tall goggled figure shoved his way through the mob and began to toss the remaining luggage into the cabin. Ellery stood up, helpfully handing him the hamper. He waved Blythe and Jack into the plane, raised the hamper in a farewell to the crowd, and vaulted into the cabin. The door slapped shut.
“Happy landings!” roared Lew.
Blythe and Jack pressed their faces to one of the windows, and the band struck up the Wedding March from Lohengrin.
Everybody sang.
Bonnie looked frantically about. And then she caught her breath. Through the hangar window nearest her she saw the tall goggled figure running towards Ty’s plane; and for the first time Bonnie realized that the figure was dressed in a flying suit identical with Ty’s. Jack... Blythe... waving, shouting... The brassy sounds of the band came faintly through the hangar walls.
And then, before her distended eyes, the red-and-gold plane began to move, taxiing down the field, rising... rising...
The last thing Bonnie saw before everything went black was her mother’s handkerchief signalling a farewell in the cabin window.
Bonnie opened her eyes aeons later to a blank world; slowly it filled in. She was lying on her side, on the floor. A few feet away lay Ty, looking very pale, looking... dead. Ty!
She stirred, and thousands of needles began to shoot into her numb flesh. With the pain came full awareness. Blythe... Blythe was gone.
She had fallen sidewise when she fainted. How long ago? What — what time was it?
Blythe. Blythe was gone. Like smoke in thin air.
In her fall the gag had been dislodged from her mouth.
And Ty was dead. Mother...
Bonnie screamed. Her own screams came screaming back at her, lying on the cold floor of the hangar behind the concealing plane.
Ty moaned.
Bonnie inched her way painfully the few feet across the floor towards him, dragging the chair to which she was bound. He opened his bloodshot eyes.
“Ty,” she gasped. “They’ve been kidnapped! Jack — my mother... That man — he flew them off the field, pretending to be you!”
Ty closed his eyes. When he opened them again Bonnie was shocked by their unnatural red color. The gag over his lips worked spasmodically, as if he were trying to speak. She could see the cords of his neck distend.
She bared her teeth, face pressed to his, gnawing at his gag like a mouse, tugging, worrying it. His cheek felt cold.
“Bonnie.” His voice was unrecognizable. “Loosen these ropes.”
For an instant their breaths mingled and their eyes locked. Then Bonnie looked away and Ty turned over, and with a little cry she bent her head to his bound, straining hands.
Luckily Ellery and his two companions had not left the field. Ellery had looked once at the thousands milling about the parked cars and wisely suggested procrastination. So he and Lew and Alan Clark went over to the airport restaurant for sandwiches and coffee.
They were roused out of a listless discussion of the picture story by a commotion outside, and near one of the hangars they came upon an anthill of officials and pilots and mechanics and police. They were swarming about Ty, who was rubbing his skinned hands, and Bonnie, who was seated with folded hands, paler than her own handkerchief, staring numbly at all the busy ants without seeing them.
“My father’s in that plane,” said Ty. There was a purplish lump on the back of his head; he looked ill. “Queen! Thank God there’s one face I recognize. And Lew! Get Butch. Call Reed Island. Do something, somebody!”
“No point in calling Reed Island first,” said Ellery to Lew. “That’s the one place this chap didn’t take them to. I wonder if...”
“Took mother,” said Bonnie simply. A female attendant tried to lure her away, but she shook her head.
Ellery rang Information, then put in a call to Tolland Stuart’s estate. A man with a dry, peevish voice answered after a long time.
“Is this Mr. Tolland Stuart?”
It seemed to Ellery that the voice was instantly cautious. “No, this is Dr. Junius. Who’s calling Mr. Stuart?”
Ellery explained what had happened and asked if Ty’s monoplane had passed near the Chocolate Mountain estate. But Tolland Stuart’s physician crushed that possibility.