It was a tense moment. The word that would have turned things upside down in that room trembled on Billy's lips. But one of those remarkable instances of mental telegraphy checked the utterance. The man who had stolen the papers felt that his action had been detected from an unexpected quarter, and his eyes lifted to the very point of danger. There was an appeal in the look--and something else, a flash of recognition that compelled a response. They were the smiling eyes of Anglin--or, as Roque would have it, Ardelle. Billy, tongued-tied, saw the bent figure slowly shuffle toward the kitchen. He inwardly trembled at the thought of the stocky airman suddenly turning from the fireplace to seek his precious reports. He added another little shake in advance of the turmoil that was bound to be raised, anyhow, no matter how soon or how late the loss should be discovered. But the consolation of delayed discovery would be that Anglin had a chance to save his neck. "What's the matter with you, pal?" Henri had just noticed that Billy was off color and wide-eyed as a trapped rabbit. Billy, for caution, laid a finger on his lips. "I've seen a ghost," he whispered. With a glance of apprehension at the group circling the fireplace, Billy leaned against the shoulder of his chum and with underbreath speed told of the presence of Anglin and the taking of the papers. Henri was thrilled by the exciting story poured into his ear, and immediately took on his share of anxiety as to the outcome of Anglin's daring action. Bursts of laughter resounded at the fireplace. The company was then applauding some humorous tale volunteered by Zorn, who had risen like a tower to impress the point of his story. "Gee," murmured Billy, "will they never quit?" "Don't fret," advised Henri, "the blow will fall in due time." It did fall a few minutes later. The main mover of the meeting was saying: "Gentlemen, it is nearing a new day, and there is great achievement before us. We go to prepare for it." Benches were pushed back to clear the way, and this scraping sound had hardly ceased when the short airman, who had made the interesting report, hurried to the table for his valuable records. The boys leaned forward in breathless suspense. CHAPTER IV. THE STOLEN PAPERS. "MY papers! The report! Has anybody seen them?" The owner of the wallet shook it vigorously over the table, to assure himself that he had not replaced the records there, and then quickstepped the whole length and around the board, lowering his head again and again beneath the polished surface to see if the documents he was excitedly seeking could have possibly fallen on the floor. "What's that?" cried Roque, starting forward. "You've lost the papers, you say?" "I didn't lose them," almost shouted the airman, "they were left on the table, and if they're gone, they've been stolen." "Hey, my friend," remonstrated Spitznagle, "we have no thieves in this house, and no enemies to the cause."