Tim pulled the Jupiter into the air just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. The earth below was shrouded in the half-light of early evening as they roared steadily along at 2,500 feet and some of the strain which had gripped him during the afternoon slipped from his weary shoulders. The mantle shrouding the earth deepened. Stars came out overhead and he switched on the wing lights. A crimson patch on the eastern horizon indicated where the moon was struggling upward. Clusters of lights passed beneath them and occasionally the streaking lights of a car could be seen. It was restful up there away from the earthy smells. An hour slipped by and the lights of Atkinson glowed ahead. The airport was outlined in the red, green and white lights that marked its boundaries and indicated to an incoming pilot the runaways. Smoothly, easily, Tim dropped the Jupiter down and the swift biplane rolled up to the ramp near the administration building. Tim blinked in the glare of the bright electrics. A familiar figure loomed out of the glare. It was Ralph, a bandage around his head, but able to move under his own power. "Where's McDowell?" asked Ralph. "Did he get away?" Tim looked at Prentiss. The inspector spoke slowly. "No, he didn't get away," he said as Tommy Larkin joined the group. "His ship started breaking up and he went over the side in his chute. The chute didn't open." "Didn't what?" asked Tommy incredulously. "Someone had ripped it open with a knife." A grim smile flickered around Tommy's lips. "I guess I can explain that," he said. "McDowell and I use exactly the same type of chutes and our packs look so much alike we can hardly tell them apart. He ripped one of the chutes, folded it back, and then picked it up himself. Fate certainly took a hand in the events around here this afternoon." "What happened to you?" Tim asked Ralph, who was leaning against the biplane. "Plenty," grinned Ralph. "I caught McDowell in the pilot's room with a knife in his hand and the chute ripped. He was just ready to repack the umbrella. When he saw me he came at me with both hands going and I went down in a heap. He must have socked me with a wrench when I was down for I've got about a two inch gash on the right side of my head. The next thing I knew I heard planes buzzing around and woke up enough to come out and give the alarm." "I guess we can write 'finis' to this smuggling case," said the inspector slowly. "I hadn't expected it would end in quite this fashion." "What will the other members of the flying circus do?" asked Tim. "Half of them have left the field already," said Tommy. "They're pretty much of a happy-go-lucky outfit. Some of them suspected that McDowell was smuggling but they wouldn't turn in information on him. They'll catch on with some other circus." "My head feels like someone was using a trip hammer on it," said Ralph. "I'm going home and to bed."