“I will if I can get off soon,” said Jimmy, “but what about the papers? How am I to get hold of them promptly?” “They should be in your hands within a few minutes. Handley is rushing them to you in a fast taxi. He also has some money for you. You may need more cash than perhaps you have in your pocket.” “Very well, sir. I’ll start my engine to warming, and be ready to take off the instant Handley gets here. Good-bye. I’ll do my best, Mr. Johnson.” “Good-bye, Jimmy. The best of luck to you. Let me have a wire from you as soon as you put the papers in the secretary’s hands.” Jimmy rang off and ran out into the hangar to warm his engine. Then he inspected his ship to make sure he had every necessary piece of equipment. Before he had finished his inspection, a taxi rushed up and Handley stepped out. “Here are your papers and your money, Jimmy. I suppose the Old Man phoned you about them. I hope you have a quick trip. The best of luck to you.” Jimmy thanked his colleague and stowed the papers and the money in an inner coat pocket, where he could not possibly lose them. Then he pulled on his flying suit, buckled on his parachute, climbed into his cockpit, nodded good-bye to his mechanic, and soared up into the night. As he left the earth, Jimmy glanced at his clock. It was exactly seven. He looked aloft, into the night. The sky was a deep, dark blue. Stars shone dimly through a slight haze. He could see quite well. “If it stays like this,” he thought, “I won’t have a bit of trouble to get there. But I sure do wish I had my own ship. These open cockpit planes certainly are back numbers.” Jimmy centred his attention on his instruments, and was soon satisfied that everything was working perfectly. His plane seemed to function better than he had expected it would. He covered the thirty-five miles to Hadley Field in a fraction more than twenty minutes. “That’s almost 105 miles an hour,” thought Jimmy. “I didn’t believe the old boat would do it. But it will be a different story when I turn west and face the wind. There’s only a twelve-mile breeze blowing, they said, but even that will cut me down to ninety miles an hour.” He flew along the old familiar airway. The visibility was good. Beneath him he could see the clustered lights of town after town, as he roared across New Jersey. He knew every town as he passed over it. He checked time and distance as he flew along. It seemed almost no time before he was approaching Easton. He thought of Rand, and the latter’s effort to trick him; and he was glad it had happened. It had resulted in Johnnie Lee’s getting the job he was so eager to have. Westward Jimmy roared along, straight as the crow flies. Beneath him, on hill and meadow, shone the beacon lights, stretching out before him in an endless row of revolving lights. For miles ahead of him he could see these friendly beacons.