For a time Jimmy was silent, thinking the matter over. Presently he thought he had solved the problem. “Warren left Hadley with the 9:35 p. m. section of the mail,” he muttered. “The fire probably occurred before he had been flying more than an hour or so. He was likely near some town where he could catch a late train, and he probably got back to Hadley early this morning. He must have written this note at once and got it into a mail for New York. It was mighty quick work, no matter how he did it. And it was just like Warren Long. He wanted to tell me about the flash-light and was afraid he would never think to mention it when he saw me. Gee! I am sure glad to have this piece of his ’chute. You bet I’ll put it in my ‘museum,’ as he calls my little collection of aviation keepsakes. Who wouldn’t be glad to have a piece of Warren Long’s parachute?” Jimmy picked up the little square of silk and smoothed it lovingly. The fabric was creamy white, beautifully woven, with a lovely sheen. It was thin and delicate and almost gauzy in effect, and one could hardly believe that so delicate a fabric could possibly have withstood the terrific strain imposed upon it when it suddenly opened by Warren Long’s two hundred pounds—for with his heavy flying suit and the ’chute pack itself, the pilot must easily have weighed as much as that. In one corner of the square of silk was a dark, scorched space. “Gee!” said Jimmy. “That fire was a lot nearer getting Warren Long than he intimated. But that is like him. He would hardly have mentioned it if he had had a leg burned off. If his parachute got scorched like that, he certainly had a close call himself. I know that, all right.” Jimmy spread the square of silk on his desk and smoothed it out with his hand. It had evidently been roughly and hastily cut from the parachute. The edges were jagged and uneven. “I’ll get some woman to trim these edges and overcast them,” thought Jimmy. “Then the silk can’t unravel. And if I ever _should_ want to use it as a handkerchief, I could.” A sudden thought came to him. Hastily he folded and thrust the bit of silk into the envelope. Then he reached for the _Morning Press_. “I wonder what the paper says about the affair,” he muttered. The item he was searching for Jimmy found on the front page, near the bottom of column six. It was a brief story, hardly three inches long, telling how Long’s plane had caught fire and how the pilot had jumped from the burning ship, after finding that he could not extinguish the blaze. Jimmy read the story and frowned.