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 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
the arrival of the army patrols and Dubra’s admission that an
attempt was under way to destroy the Goliath.
“The wonder of it is,” said Andy’s father, “that some foreign
power hasn’t made the attempt before. Now that we are fore-
warned, there is little chance of success in damaging the big ship.”
Andy saw Herman Blatz waiting for him some distance away and
he spoke to his father and Captain Harkins in low tones, explaining
that Blatz had been sent to Bellevue on special orders of the war
department.
“I can see no objection to that,” said Captain Harkins. “Doctor
Eckener at Friedrichshafen has placed us deeply in his debt through
suggestions on the improvement of our general design and one of
his observers is welcome as far as I am concerned.”
“National Airways feels the same way,” added Andy’s father.
Andy took his father and Captain Harkins over to Blatz where he
made the necessary introductions. They were soon engaged in a
spirited discussion of the improvements in aircraft building which
were represented in the Goliath and Andy left them to walk back to
his own office.
The arrival of Blatz had disturbed him strangely. He had hoped
that he would be able to welcome the newcomer with real cordiality
but instead he found a mounting barrier of resentment rising
between himself and the German.
Blatz’ story didn’t ring true. Andy had tested him that afternoon
when he had recalled the incident at Friedrichshafen when he and
Karl Staab had been blown across Lake Constance in the old
Strassburg. Blatz had recalled knowing Staab when, in reality, there
was no such navigator at Friedrichshafen. The whole story and the
name had been invented by Andy to test Blatz. If, as he claimed, he
had been connected with the Friedrichshafen plant for a number of
years, he could not have remembered a man who did not exist. Blatz
had agreed too readily. Andy’s suspicions were aroused and he
promised himself an investigation.
 CHAPTER VIII
Mysterious Moves

When Herman Blatz, alias Lieut. Serge Larko of the Rubanian

secret police, was alone in his room late that afternoon preparing for
supper, he was torn between conflicting emotions. He had reached
Bellevue safely. He was even inside the plant of the National
Airways, accepted as a German civilian observer. The opportunity for
him to wreck the Goliath might present itself at any moment but two
mighty emotional forces were at work. One was his inherent love for
anything man-made that could conquer the elements. Only that
afternoon he had viewed the greatest of all airships and he quailed
inwardly at the thought that his task was to destroy the mighty craft.
He heard the call for supper and descended to the dining room
where he was seated at the head table with Andy, Bert, Harry,
Andy’s father and Captain Harkins. There was a vacant chair at his
left and he wondered who the late-comer would be.
Conversation at the table was devoted almost solely to topics
centering around the Goliath and the young Rubanian airman
reveled in the sheer joy it brought him. For the time he forgot his
ominous mission and was light-hearted and gay.
Supper was half over when a quiet man slipped into the chair
beside him. Andy turned and introduced the late arrival.
“Mr. Blatz,” he said, “I want you to know Merritt Timms, chief of
the secret service agents here.”
Blatz acknowledged the introduction mechanically and Andy,
watching his every move and facial expression, failed to see any
note of alarm. It was well for Blatz that Andy’s eyes could not
penetrate beneath the surface for Blatz’s mind was working rapidly.
 The chief of the secret service agents at Bellevue seated beside
him! Had he aroused suspicion already? Had there been a slip
somewhere along the line; could these alert Americans know his
identity and be playing with him, waiting for him to make a slip so
they could send him to some military prison?
He knew the careful workings of the Gerka and he doubted that
a slip had been made. That thought gave him some reassurance and
his gay attitude returned.
They finished the meal and chairs were pushed back.
“I’m going over to the hospital,” said Timms to Andy. “Want to go
along and hear what Dubra has to say?”
Andy darted a glance at Blatz. He saw the civilian observer start
ever so slightly. It was hardly more than a tremor but it helped to
verify Andy’s suspicions.
“I’ll go,” he replied. “Perhaps Blatz here would like to come with
us?”
“Yes, of course,” replied the other. “Some mechanic hurt?”
“A little,” replied Timms. “A couple of bullets hurt him. He was an
agent of the Gerka, Rubanian secret police organization, planted
here to damage the hangar. He failed and the guards didn’t miss
when he tried to escape.”
“I’m surprised to hear that,” said Blatz. “I didn’t suppose anyone
would direct any destructive efforts toward the Goliath.”
“We’ll be surprised if anyone else does,” said Timms, “for we
know that Alex Reikoff, dictator of Rubania, would like nothing better
than to hear about the destruction of the Goliath. As a result, we’ve
taken every precaution that is humanly possible.”
“That is wise,” said Blatz, “for in Europe we have come to fear
Reikoff as a menace to the peace of the world.”
They were in the doorway of the hospital now and Blatz saw
Andy’s keen blue eyes boring into him, probing as though
questioning the truth of his words. He felt that his answers,
especially the reference to Reikoff as a menace, had been well put.
A slight infection had set in on Dubra’s right leg and the
Rubanian was restless with pain.
 “Hello, Dubra,” said the secret service chief. “Just dropped in to
see how you are getting along.”
“They’re killing me,” cried the man on the bed. “My leg hurts so.”
“They’re doing no such thing,” replied Timms. “The doctor here is
making every effort to save your worthless life. Have you got
anything else to add to what you said the other night?”
Dubra’s eyes were bright with fever but his mind was clear and
he shook his head.
Blatz kept well in the background. He had lost the ally Reikoff
had told him he would have. Dubra, over-anxious to cause harm,
had been caught and wounded. His usefulness as an agent of
destruction was at an end and Blatz would have to go on alone.
Perhaps it would be easier that way.
There was no more information to be had from the wounded
Rubanian and they left the hospital. When they returned to the
hotel, Blatz excused himself and went to his room. Timms signified
his intention to do likewise but changed his mind when Andy insisted
that they take a walk together.
“What’s the idea?” the secret service chief asked when they were
well away from the hotel and walking in the open.
“It’s Blatz,” said Andy. “There’s something about him that doesn’t
ring true.”
The assistant pilot of the Goliath related the incident of the
afternoon with the fake story of the adventure at Friedrichshafen.
“That sounds a little fishy,” admitted Timms, “but that’s not
enough to accuse a man of being a spy.”
“I realize that,” admitted Andy, “but you should have seen him
tonight when you asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and see
Dubra. Blatz’s face paled and he trembled ever so slightly. No one
else noticed it but I had been watching him closely.”
“Still there is nothing definite,” insisted Timms.
“There’s enough so that I’m not going to let him get very far
away from me,” replied Andy. “Can’t you start a quiet tracer through
the secret service; find out where and when he landed; how he
came to receive the permission from the war department and
anything else your people in Europe can dig up?”
“It might be rather serious if your suspicions proved unfounded,”
said Timms.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” replied Andy.
“Then I’ll see what can be done,” promised the secret service
chief.
Events during the next month at Bellevue were quiet enough.
Andy kept a close watch of Blatz, but the German observer’s conduct
was model. He confined his activities solely to observance and taking
notes on the parts of the Goliath to which he was allowed access
and he made no move to delve into the military secrets which were
a part of the giant craft.
Bert and Harry had been busy with the installation of the intricate
radio equipment which was a part of the Goliath. Late in April they
completed their joint task and Bert announced that the
communications apparatus was ready.
Assembly of the gondola had been completed, motor crews were
busy tuning up the 12 giant engines which were to provide the
power and fitters worked overtime on the installation of the
luxurious furnishings of the lounge and sleeping quarters in the
passenger cabins.
The gondola of the Goliath was a two-deck affair. In the fore part
of the lower deck was the control and operations room with the
communications room just behind. The main lounge was located on
this deck with the dining room and the chef’s quarters at the rear of
the gondola. An enclosed promenade deck, encircled the lounge and
dining room. The upper deck was devoted solely to passenger
cabins, which were fitted like the staterooms of a Pullman. Every
modern convenience for the comfort of travelers had been built into
the gondola and the Goliath was truly a revelation in luxury.
Blatz was enthusiastic in his praise of the great machine and
Andy was forced to admit to himself that his earlier suspicions
appeared unfounded. He relaxed his vigilance somewhat and the
secret agent of the Gerka sensed this change in the assistant pilot’s
attitude. Between them a real friendship started to develop and it
was only natural that Bert and Harry were included in this feeling of
comradeship.
On more than one occasion Blatz proved his sound technical
knowledge, which could have been gained only at Friedrichshafen, a
fact which influenced Andy in quieting his suspicions. In addition,
there had been no report from the Washington headquarters of the
secret service and it appeared that Blatz’s record was all right.
Shipments of helium, the life-blood of the Goliath, were arriving
daily from the Texas gas fields. The long, narrow cylinders were
stacked in rows outside the hangar. When needed they would be
trucked inside, the valves opened, and their contents would flow into
the gas cells inside the duralumin hull. In this respect the United
States led all the other nations in its precious supply of helium, a
non-inflammable gas. Some of the Europeans were forced to use
hydrogen, a highly inflammable gas, the use of which had resulted in
some of the major dirigible catastrophes.
Work on the Goliath was well ahead of schedule and when Bert
and Harry finished their work on the radio equipment, Harry
announced that it would be necessary for him to return to Brooklyn
at once for a final test of the equipment of the Neptune.
The submarine was to leave soon and Andy and Bert obtained
leave to accompany Harry on his return east. When Blatz heard of
the plans, he asked permission to accompany them. It would give
him an opportunity to visit the American headquarters of the Gerka
in New York.
“You might just as well make it a real holiday,” Andy’s father said
when apprised of their plans. “One of our cabin monoplanes will be
in tomorrow and I’ll see that you are given the use of it for a week.
Then you can fly east together.”
The suggestion appealed to them and they accepted with
enthusiasm. Two days later they were ready to depart. After stowing
their luggage into the baggage compartment of the trim, fast
National Airways monoplane, they each took farewell looks at the
Goliath and then climbed into their places.
 Andy was at the controls with Blatz in the seat beside him. Bert
and Harry were sprawled in comfortable wicker chairs to the rear.
The plane skimmed across the field and took off in a steep climb,
circled the field once, and then headed northeast in a bee-line for
New York.
The mountains, their crests covered with the fresh green of early
spring foliage, reared their misty heads to the east. They would cut
diagonally across them and Andy held the stick back and watched
the altimeter climb. At five thousand he leveled off and settled down
to the trip. They had plenty of gas to make it on one long hop.
Blatz was enjoying the trip, the rolling country beneath, the
mountains which they were approaching and even the thrill of being
in the air, which never grew old to him. His eyes sparkled and there
was a bright glow to his cheeks. He’d like to get his hands on the
controls and see how this American commercial job handled.
An hour later Andy turned to Blatz.
“Ever handled a ship like this?” he asked.
“I’ve done a little flying,” admitted the European.
“Think you could handle it?”
Blatz nodded eagerly and Andy slipped out from behind the
controls which the other took over.
Andy watched him keenly and noticed that Blatz settled into his
chair like a veteran. His touch on the controls was firm but light and,
unlike the beginner, he did not over-control.
The air over the mountains was rougher and Andy wondered how
Blatz would come through. His question was soon answered. A down
draft swirled them downward three hundred feet in the twinkling of
an eye. A novice would have been panic-stricken, but Blatz gave her
the gun and flipped out of it nicely.
“Good work,” said Andy.
“More luck than anything else,” was the reply, but Andy was very
much inclined to disagree. There was no question in his mind now.
Blatz was not only a good dirigible man but he was an expert flyer
as well. The long-allayed suspicions Andy had harbored in the first
weeks the civilian observer had been at Bellevue were re-awakened.
He would communicate his distrust to Bert and Harry when they had
a chance to talk alone. Until now he had kept his misgivings to
himself but he felt that it was time the others knew how he felt.
They lunched over eastern Pennsylvania with the plane clipping
the miles off at 110 an hour. Sandwiches had been brought in a
liberal supply but the cool air had whetted their appetites and the
basket of lunch soon disappeared.
“Oh, boy,” said Bert. “Wait until I get to New York and sink my
teeth in a big, juicy steak. Honestly, I’m almost starved. Those
sandwiches were just teasers.”
“How long before we’ll be in?” asked Harry, who likewise
confessed that the lunch had not satisfied his hunger.
“Another hour,” replied Andy, who was back at the controls. “Next
time we’ll bring a restaurant along. From the way you fellows
complain someone might get the idea you’d been working this
morning.”
Fifty-five minutes later they dipped over the National Airways
field on the Jersey side and Andy nosed down to land. Blatz touched
his arm.
“If Bert and Harry won’t starve for five more minutes,” he said,
“I’d like to see New York from the air.”
“We’ll manage to hold out another few minutes,” conceded the
hungry pair, and Andy headed the monoplane east across the Jersey
flats.
They dipped a wing in salute as the Statue of Liberty was passed
and climbed steeply as they approached the Battery. On up town
they sped over the canyons between the skyscrapers where hurrying
crowds of shoppers were thronging the streets. The Empire State’s
gleaming tower was ahead, then beside, and then behind them. The
Chrysler spire glittered in the sun and they looked down on the
crowds in Times Square. Central Park was a fleeting panorama. Then
they were over the Hudson, back to Jersey and sliding down out of
the skyway with motor idling. They touched gently and rolled to a
landing in front of the main control station where the number of
their plane was taken and they were assigned to a hangar. Andy
taxied the monoplane down the line to the No. 5 hangar where
mechanics were ready to take it in charge.
“How did you like your aerial view of New York?” Andy asked
Blatz.
“It was marvelous, breath-taking,” laughed the other. “In Europe
we have no city to compare with it. Your buildings; they go into the
clouds.”
“I’ll say,” replied Harry. “I’ve been on the Empire State tower
when the clouds were so thick you couldn’t see the street.”
They entered the main administration building at the airport,
cleaned up, and then took a taxi for New York. Through Jersey City
and under the Hudson they went in the Holland Tubes and then
through the maze of mid-afternoon traffic to their hotel just off
Times Square.
While Andy was registering for the party, Bert saw the sign above
the door of the grillroom, and, with a “See you later,” departed to
order the steak he had promised himself.
Andy, Blatz and Harry went up to their rooms, assured
themselves that the double quarters were satisfactory, and then
went down to join Bert in the grill.
“I ordered steaks for everyone,” said the radio operator of the
Goliath. “Anyone have any objections?”
There was no vocal protest and the steaks were placed before
them a minute later.
“I’ve got to go over to the shipyard and report that I’m in town,”
said Harry. “Anyone like to run over to Brooklyn now and see what
the Neptune looks like?”
“Count me in,” replied Bert. “I want to see what kind of a tin can
you’re going to use in your attempt to reach the North Pole.”
“How about you two?” asked Harry, turning to Andy and Blatz.
“I’ll be glad to go in the morning,” said Blatz, “but just now I’m a
little tired. I’ll stay here at the hotel, rest a while, and then perhaps
stroll out and look around the city a bit.”
 “You’ll have to count me out, too,” said Andy. “I’ve a few errands
that must be attended to and the sooner they are out of the way the
more time I’ll have to spend over at the shipyard.”
Harry and Bert departed, after promising that they would return
early in the evening so they could enjoy a show together. Blatz went
up to their double room and Andy sat down at a writing desk to pen
several important notes. He had been writing not more than five
minutes when he looked up and saw a familiar figure going through
the main doorway. He recognized the German civilian observer. But
Blatz had just said that he was tired and was going to his room to
rest?
Without waiting to ponder the question, Andy picked up the note
he had been writing, stuffed it in his pocket, and hurried toward the
entrance.
It was late afternoon and dusk had settled but he reached the
street just in time to see Blatz step into a cab. There was something
furtive, mysterious in the other’s manner and Andy decided to follow.
He motioned for a cab cruising by to stop. The driver was an alert,
keen looking fellow and he responded instantly when Andy spoke to
him.
“Keep that cab ahead in sight,” said Andy, “and there’s an extra
five for you.”
Gears meshed harshly as the cab lurched ahead and Andy
started on one of the strangest adventures of his life.
 CHAPTER IX
On the East Side

Lieutenant Larko, or Blatz as he was known to his American

friends, wanted to get his visit to the American headquarters of the
Gerka over as soon as possible. He did not look forward to it with
pleasure and was anxious to return to his friends. The deeper he got
into the intrigue the less he liked the mission which had been
assigned to him by the dictator of Rubania.
On leaving the hotel, he sank back in the cushions of the taxicab
and marveled at the dexterity of the driver, who guided his car
between the moving streams of traffic with amazing skill. They
worked away from the mid-town section, getting over on the east
side where the streets were narrower, the lights dimmer and the
pavement rough and bumpy.
Occasionally the gleam of the headlights of another car flashed in
the mirror over the driver’s head, but Blatz thought nothing of it until
the driver leaned back as he slowed for a turn.
“There’s another cab been following us ever since we left the
hotel,” he said. “Want me to try and shake them?”
“Not right now,” replied Blatz. “Keep going; I’ll watch them.”
He turned and looked out the rear window. There was no
mistake on the part of the driver; another machine was following,
making every turn they did, maintaining the same speed and
keeping about a block to the rear. Had the American secret service
become suspicious of him and placed him under surveillance?
The thought alarmed Blatz and he ordered the driver to attempt
to lose the pursuing machine. For fifteen minutes they turned and
twisted from one street to another, darted through alleys and
doubled back onto thoroughfares. At last the lights of the other
machine vanished and Blatz felt sure that they had lost their
pursuers.
He gave the order to continue to the address he had given the
driver and relaxed again. He would be glad to get back to the hotel
and rejoin his friends.
The American headquarters of the Gerka were located on the
fifth floor of a warehouse building on the east side, a district which
was anything but reassuring after dusk had fallen. Street lights cast
their feeble rays at infrequent intervals and there was no traffic on
the street. One dusty electric globe hung in the little cubby which
was marked “watchman’s office.”
“Want me to wait?” asked the taxi driver.
“That’s not necessary,” replied Blatz. “I’ll call a cab when I’m
ready to return.”
The taxi lurched down the street and Blatz walked up to the
watchman’s window.
The password of the Gerka was in Rubanian and Blatz spoke a
guttural phrase.
The watchman, a middle aged man with distinct Rubanian
features, stepped to a phone and made sure that Blatz was really an
agent of the Gerka. Informed that the newcomer was to be shown
to the headquarters, he took Blatz into the dim confines of the
building and showed him into a freight elevator. They were lifted
slowly to the fifth floor and when the door opened, Blatz stepped
out into a comfortably furnished suite of rooms.
A secretary took his number and mission and five minutes later
he was ushered into the inner chamber, to face Lothar Vendra, head
of the American branch of the Gerka.
Vendra was an impressive individual. He was tall, broad-
shouldered, and handsome in a bitter sort of way.
“I am most happy to greet you,” he told Blatz, extending his
hand in welcome.
“I am happy to be here,” replied Blatz, with an enthusiasm that
he did not honestly feel.
 “Sit down,” motioned Vendra, “and tell me all that has happened
since you arrived at Bellevue and how you happen to be in New York
at this time.”
Blatz recounted in detail the events that had taken place since he
had arrived at the home of the Goliath. When he mentioned the
name of Boris Dubra, the mechanic who had been wounded in his
attempt to damage the Goliath’s hangar, Vendra’s face clouded with
anger.
“I had heard of that,” he said. “Dubra was a fool. We are just as
well off without him. You will be able to accomplish the task alone.”
“I’m not so sure that I will fulfill my mission,” replied Blatz.
“What’s that?” demanded Vendra.
“I have a feeling that the Americans, especially Andy High, are
suspicious,” explained Blatz. “When I left the hotel a few minutes
ago I was followed and only by the amazing dexterity of my taxi
driver was I able to elude my pursuer.”
“You must have been mistaken,” insisted Vendra. “Your papers
are in perfect order.”
“I was not mistaken,” said Blatz, clearly and decisively. “Every
precaution must be taken or I will find myself in an American military
prison.”
“I agree that you must be careful,” admitted Vendra, “but His
Excellency is most anxious that the Goliath be destroyed at once. In
his latest communication he especially stressed this point. This air
monster must never become the king of the skies!”
The words came to Blatz through a mist of memories. He could
see the silver sides of the Goliath as the great ship lay in its hangar,
hear the tap of hammers and cries of the workmen as they rushed it
to completion, see the pride and joy in Andy’s eyes as the young
engineer looked at the great skycraft he had helped to create. And
his job was to destroy all this. The airman in him rebelled and
Vendra, sensing the emotional conflict, moved closer.
“Remember,” he warned. “You are a Rubanian, a member of the
Gerka, who is pledged to duty even unto death!”
 Blatz nodded dismally. There was no getting away from the facts.
He would have to destroy the Goliath.
“You may inform His Excellency,” he said, “that I will do my best.”
He was about to leave when a buzzer rang sharply. Vendra seized
the telephone and a look of alarm came over his face.
“There’s trouble down at the entrance,” he said. “The watchman
just found a man prowling around. He knocked him out and is
bringing him up here.”
Andy’s pursuit of the German observer had not been successful
for his driver had finally lost the cab in the maze of quick turns
Blatz’s driver had made after being ordered to shake off pursuit.
But Andy was not easily discouraged and he ordered his own taxi
to return to the street on which they had been when Blatz had
started his zig-zig tactics. There was a possibility that the cab he
sought might return and continue its journey from that point. His
hunch was correct and within ten minutes the machine he had lost
rolled down the street. This time his driver put out his lights and
they followed, Andy in the meantime having agreed to fend off any
police charges that might be brought for running without lights.
He was less than two hundred yards away when Blatz entered
the warehouse and Andy was slipping into the building when the
night watchman returned and caught him.
The challenge was in Rubanian, a language unfamiliar to Andy.
He replied in American, explaining that he was looking for a friend
who was to meet him at that address.
The explanation failed to satisfy the watchman, who ordered
Andy out. The watchman was too anxious to get rid of him and Andy
refused to leave. The attack followed almost instantly, and the burly
watchman hurled himself at the slender airman with surprising
speed.
Taken unaware, Andy went down in a heap. He struggled to his
feet and turned to face the next rush by the watchman. He partially
fended off the first blow but another, starting low and coming up
with tremendous force, caught him on the point of the chin. His
knees wobbled, a mist clouded his eyes, his mouth was strangely dry
and he had a sensation of falling from a great height. Then a curtain
of darkness descended.
The watchman picked him up carried him into the elevator, and
finally walked into Vendra’s office with the unconscious Andy in his
arms.
Blatz started back in white-faced amazement.
“Is he badly hurt?” he asked.
“No,” grunted the watchman. “He’ll come around in a few
minutes. He struck his head against a door sill when I knocked him
down.”
“This is terrible,” said Blatz. “Now Andy’s suspicions of me will be
confirmed. It will be no use for me to return to Bellevue after this.”
“What do you mean?” asked Vendra.
“Just this,” explained Blatz. “Your bulldog watchman here has
knocked out Andy High, son of Charles High, executive vice
president of the National Airways who is in charge of the building of
the Goliath. Andy is my ‘chaperon’ at Bellevue and the only one who
has appeared to be suspicious of me. He must have followed me
from the hotel.”
Vendra was silent for a minute, pondering the situation which
confronted them.
“It is regrettable,” he said. “You must return to Bellevue to fulfill
your mission of destroying the Goliath, the air monster.”
“But I can’t go back now,” protested Blatz.
“Return to your hotel at once,” said Vendra.
“When anyone asks where you have been, tell them on a long
taxi ride through the city and Central Park.”
“Andy will never believe such a story,” protested Blatz.
“He won’t be able to disprove it,” countered Vendra. “As soon as
you leave I’ll take him out of here. We’ll leave him in another street
before he recovers consciousness. He’ll never be able to find his way
back here and you’ll make a complete denial if he ever openly
accuses you. It is ticklish, I admit, but it is the only way out.”
 Blatz finally agreed and hastened from the room, to return at
once to the hotel where he found Bert and Harry waiting.
“Where’s Andy?” asked Bert.
“I don’t know,” replied Blatz. “I’ve been on a long taxi ride.”
Which, he told himself, was quite true.
An hour later Andy arrived in a cab, his clothes so dirty and
disheveled that he attracted open attention as he walked through
the fashionable lobby of the hotel. The clerks eyed him with disgust
but they dared not protest at his appearance. When he appeared in
his room, he was greeted with exclamations of astonishment.
“What under the sun happened to you?” asked Bert. “Did a taxi
walk all over you?”
“Something, hit me,” said Andy, “while I was down on the east
side. The next thing I knew I was lying in a street and a policeman
was shaking me. I finally convinced him that I was sane and sober,
and he let me come back here. I haven’t figured it out just yet; my
head’s too dizzy.”
He looked straight at Blatz when he added:
“But I have a hunch I’ll get it straight when I get over this
headache.”
 CHAPTER X
The Neptune Sails

Andy was shaky from his experience over on the east side and
while Bert, Harry and Blatz went out to a show, he remained at the
hotel to rest and think things over.
He was positive that he had seen Blatz go into the warehouse
and the conviction grew that the German civilian observer was not
all that he claimed to be. Andy felt a crisis coming, something he
couldn’t exactly put into words, but a vague feeling that trouble was
just around the corner. He was asleep when the others returned at
midnight from the theater and they did not waken him.
Andy felt much refreshed the next morning and they decided to
accompany Harry on his visit to the shipyard.
“It’s the finest tin fish I’ve ever seen,” said Bert, who had visited
the Neptune the afternoon before. “They’ve got just about
everything they need in it.”
“It is a wonderful boat,” admitted Harry proudly, “but I’ll have to
confess that traveling in the Neptune won’t be able to compare with
the Goliath. When we’re submerged the air isn’t any too good if
we’re down three or four hours and we’re pretty cramped for space.”
“Let’s get under way,” said Andy. “I’m anxious to see this
wonderful tin fish.”
They took a taxi across town, rolled over the Brooklyn bridge and
fifteen minutes later were walking into the shipyard where the
Neptune was being groomed for its polar trip.
The submarine was lying beside a stubby wharf with its main
hatch open. Workmen were busy passing supplies down into its
depths as Andy and his party arrived.
 “My gosh,” exclaimed Andy. “I didn’t suppose you had a
submarine of this type. It’s almost as big as one of the navy’s super-
cruisers.”
“Just about,” agreed Harry. “As a matter-of-fact, this sub was
built for naval purposes by the Seabright yards. They used it as a
demonstrator in selling similar models to South American navies. It
has just about every modern gadget on it that inventors could
devise. As a result of this working model, the Seabright people
landed contracts for about 25 million in work. The Neptune had
served its purpose and they were willing to sell it to Gilbert Mathews
at a very reasonable figure when he started looking for a ship in
which to make the polar trip. The Seabright engineers have made all
of the necessary changes for polar cruising and have just put their
official approval on the Neptune, which means we’ll be starting north
within a few days.”
“I’d like to see inside the Neptune,” said Blatz, adding, “I’ve never
been in a submarine before.”
“All right,” agreed Harry, “but we’ll have to keep out of the way of
the crew bringing in stores Let’s go.”
They scrambled down the ladder and reached the rivet-studded
deck of the Neptune. There was a lull in the steady stream of boxes
being carried into the interior and they hurried through the main
hatch and into the conning tower, then down into the main control
room.
Andy looked about in amazement at the compactness of the
instruments in the “brains” of the submarine. There was not an inch
of waste space in the spotlessly white interior of the steel fish.
Harry led them through the forward engine room and into the
crew quarters where double-decked bunks lined the walls. Just
ahead were the officers’ quarters, slightly better furnished than
those of the crew and beyond this was the radio cubby where Harry
would practically live from the time they left the Brooklyn shipyard
until they returned from the desolate ice wastes of the far north.
They went on ahead into the room usually used as a torpedo
room. This had been fitted with scientific equipment for sounding
the ocean depths, and determining the material at the bottom of the
Arctic. In addition to the scientific paraphernalia, the forward room
contained the all important rescue chambers. In this room was
located the powerful drill which was capable of boring fifty feet
upward straight through the ice, opening a tunnel large enough for a
man to wriggle through in case the submarine became trapped by
ice. There was also an escape passage through the forward torpedo
tubes.
The inspection of the forward half of the sub completed, they
turned to the after quarters. Another large engine room was located
after the main control room and beyond this was another room with
double-decked bunks while just back of that was the galley.
“You’ve got a place to cook food,” said Bert, “but where do you
eat?”
“Just about any place we find convenient,” replied Harry. “There
are a number of folding tables that can be pulled out in the crews’
quarters but if the going is rough or we’re busy, we take on food
when and where we can get it.”
“When you’re pitching around on the North Atlantic and trying to
connect a little food with that hungry mouth of yours, just remember
what a pleasant time I’ll be having on the Goliath where there’s
plenty of room to stretch and plenty of room to eat,” said Bert.
“I’ll probably remember that a good many times,” grinned Harry,
“but if you radio me a description of some of those nice meals of
yours. I’ll refuse to answer.”
They completed their inspection of the Neptune and had climbed
back to the wharf when a roadster rolled through the shipyard gate.
“Just a minute, fellows,” said Harry. “Here comes Gilbert
Mathews. I’d like to have you meet him.”
The commander of the Neptune was tall and broad-shouldered.
His walk was vigorous and he was hatless. His brown hair was
slightly gray at the temples and he might be anywhere from 35 to 45
years old.
“Hello, Harry,” he said as he came up. “Your radio equipment all
ready?”
 “Everything’s tested and in fine shape,” replied the radio operator.
“I’d like to have you meet my friends.”
“Delighted,” said the explorer, and he greeted Blatz, Bert and
Andy cordially.
“I’ve had some very pleasant conferences with your father,” he
told Andy. “Will we meet at the North pole this summer?”
“I sincerely hope so,” replied Andy. “Bert is chief radio operator
on the Goliath and I will make the trip as assistant to Captain
Harkins.”
“Then I am sure that we will meet again,” replied Mathews. He
turned to Harry.
“Did the orders reach you at your hotel before you left this
morning?” he asked.
“No sir,” replied Harry.
“Then this will come as somewhat of a surprise,” smiled
Mathews. “We’ll leave at sunrise and every member of the crew has
been ordered on board tonight.”
“It certainly is a surprise,” gasped Harry, “but I’ll be aboard ship
tonight.”
“You’re leaving almost two weeks earlier than you had first
planned,” said Andy.
“Conditions in the Arctic are more open than they have been for
a number of years,” replied the explorer, “and I am anxious to get
the Neptune into the ice as soon as possible.”
“We probably will not see you again,” said Andy, “but we wish
you every good fortune and we’ll see you at the North pole.”
“Thank you for your good wishes,” replied Mathews. “In return, I
wish the Goliath a fair voyage and a fast one.”
The explorer left them and hurried down the ladder to supervise
the final preparations for the departure of the Neptune.
Harry was busy the remainder of the day, finishing the task of
getting his kit together and sending goodbye telegrams to relatives,
for his parents lived in Illinois and would not be able to reach New
York before sailing time.
 Hotel reporters learned that the assistant pilot of the Goliath was
in the city and when they returned to the hotel in late afternoon,
half a dozen were waiting for Andy.
They plied him with questions. How long would it be before the
Goliath was ready to take the air; what would the big ship do; where
would it go on its trial flights; was it true that attempts had been
made to destroy the ship in its hangar; when would it start on the
cruise into the Arctic regions?
To all these questions Andy was able to give only the most
general of answers for he was bound in secrecy not to reveal
definite information about the Goliath or the plans for its trial flights.
Andy and his friends posed while flashlights flared but finally they
were alone in their rooms.
Harry had finished the score of small tasks which had been
necessary when the final sail order, was given and he stretched out
on one of the beds, his hands clasped above his head.
“Tonight we’re all here together,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll be going
down the sound in the tin fish; next week you’ll be aloft as the
Goliath tries its wings, and the next time we meet will be at the
North pole. Believe me, that’s adventure.”
“How I envy you all,” said Blatz, his voice low and earnest, and
Andy actually felt sorry for the European whom he had come to
firmly suspicion. If he could wipe those doubts out of his mind, he
would thoroughly like Blatz for the foreigner was a born airman and
would be a real asset to the technical staff of National Airways.
“When you sail away for the North pole in the Goliath,” he told
Andy, “I’ll stay on the ground at Bellevue and watch you fade into
the north but I’ll glory with you in success.”
“I’m hungry,” announced Bert. “Let’s go down and get something
to eat. If we sit around here we’ll all get blue for we’re going to miss
Harry a lot. There’s just this one consolation. We’ll be able to talk
back and forth daily on our low wave sets unless the Arctic puts up a
wall of static we can’t break through.”
Their last meal together was a quiet affair despite Bert’s efforts
to make it jolly and cheerful. With Harry going aboard ship within
the next hour or so and the Neptune casting off at dawn, they knew
the start of the great adventure was at hand and it awed them all.
A messenger paged Harry in the dining room and handed him a
telegram. The Neptune’s radio operator tore it open with fingers that
shook just a little and read it hungrily. His face whitened for a
moment and he folded the message carefully and placed it in an
inner pocket. There was a suspicion of a tear in one eye.
“A wire from Dad and Mother,” he said. “They’re the best ever.”
An hour later they stepped out of a taxi on the Brooklyn wharf.
Lights glowed over the Neptune; cars hurried up to disgorge other
members of the crew, newspaper men were buzzing around,
flashlights blazed and over the whole scene there was a feeling of
tension.
Gilbert Mathews was at the head of the ladder, checking in every
man as he came aboard. Harry reported and was checked off the
list. He turned to his friends from Bellevue.
“I can’t say very much,” he told them. “Everything is sort of
choked up in my throat. Bert, old scout, I’ll be tuning up for your
messages. Don’t forget me.”
“I won’t,” promised the Goliath’s operator.
“So long, fellows,” said Harry and he turned and hastened down
the ladder to the deck of the Neptune. He paused for a moment and
waved before stepping inside the steel hull.
When they returned to their hotel, Blatz stopped at a newsstand
to buy an early edition of one of the morning papers. They were so
much more comprehensive than the Rubanian papers to which he
had been accustomed and he thoroughly enjoyed reading them. In
the quiet of his room he digested the news of the day. A story on an
inside page caught and held his attention. The dateline was “KRATZ,
Rubania.” The story told of the growing unrest against the regime of
Dictator Reikoff, adding that this bad feeling was centered in the
powerful air corps, the largest unit of the Rubanian army.
Blatz knew what they meant. Reikoff had been making unjust
demands of his airmen and he was sitting on an open powder keg
which was likely to explode with disastrous results to himself. Blatz
almost wished that revolution would sweep the country and rid
Rubania of its dictator. He was thoroughly disgusted and out of
sympathy with the task to which he had been assigned, that of
destroying the Goliath, and he would welcome any opportunity to
escape but as long as Reikoff lived and ruled it would mean death
for Blatz if he failed to carry out his mission.
Andy stepped through the door which connected the double
room.
“Any objections to our returning to Bellevue in the morning?” he
asked.
“No, why?” replied Blatz.
“Oh, there’s no reason for us to stay on longer here but I thought
you might have some business over on the east side to transact.”
Andy’s keen eyes were watching Blatz’s face, searching for some
change of expression that would indicate his alarm. There was none;
the civilian observer outwardly appeared cool and unruffled but it
was well that Andy could not see the flash of fear that seared across
his mind. It was true, then, that Andy did suspect him. He was
warning him in this way to watch his step. Undoubtedly he would tell
the secret service. If he, Blatz, were to accomplish his mission of
destruction it must be immediately after his return to Bellevue.
“There is nothing to keep me in the city,” replied Blatz, “and I am
anxious to get back and see the finishing touches put on the
Goliath.”
“Then we’ll get an early start,” said Andy, “drop down the harbor
and say goodbye to the Neptune and then head for home. We ought
to be there in time for lunch.”
They were up shortly after dawn but it was eight o’clock by the
time they reached the airport of the National Airways in Jersey, had
stowed their baggage in the monoplane and were ready to take the
air. Andy took over the controls, Blatz climbed in beside him and Bert
stowed his more ample bulk in a chair just behind and beside a
window where he could wave when they passed the Neptune.
Satisfied that the motor of the monoplane was functioning
perfectly, Andy sent the plane speeding over the crushed rock
runway and into the slanting rays of the sun. He circled the field
until he had plenty of altitude, and then cut across the Jersey flats
where the blue Atlantic gleamed in the distance.
The Neptune must have started at the crack of dawn, for the
submarine was far down the bay when they finally picked it up. The
Neptune was running on the surface at ten knots an hour, its sharp
nose cleaving through the sparkling waves and its decks almost
awash. The main hatch was open and half a dozen of the crew were
on top of the conning tower.
Andy sent the monoplane down in a gentle glide, levelled off, and
skimmed over the water with motor on full. They flashed past the
Neptune, raced out to sea, turned and roared back: Someone on the
conning tower was waving frantically.
The three in the monoplane caught a fleeting glimpse of Harry as
they sped past. The Neptune was off, headed for Plymouth, England,
on the first leg of its long and adventurous trip into the Arctic.
 CHAPTER XI
In The Hangar

The return flight to Bellevue was uneventful and the monoplane

settled down beside the Goliath’s hangar shortly after noon. Andy
taxied the plane up to the apron and they piled out and hurried into
the main hangar to see what progress had been made on the
Goliath since their departure.
Even in the short time they had been away the crews had put on
the finishing touches. The great silver hull gleamed in the softened
light of the hangar. The main gondola had been completed, the
observation cockpits on top of the big bag were in place and
hundreds of helium tanks were piled along the walls of the hangar—
empty. That meant that the gas cells had been filled with the
precious gas. The Goliath was almost ready to take the air.
Charles High and Captain Harkins hurried up to them.
“How does the Goliath look today?” Andy’s father asked.
“Wonderful, Dad, simply wonderful,” replied Andy. “When will you
make the first test?”
“We may walk it out of the hangar tomorrow but we won’t make
a real flight for several days,” replied the vice president in charge of
operations for the National Airways. “The army has a finger in the
pie and when we actually take the air several members of the
general staff and a dozen air corps experts will want to be aboard to
see if it behaves to specifications.”
“I’m sure it will,” put in Blatz. “I’ve seen a good many of Doctor
Eckener’s ships at Friedrichshafen and with all due respect to the
Herr Doctor, the Goliath is the finest, most carefully designed and
built aircraft I have ever seen.”
 “That’s a real compliment,” chuckled Bert. “It isn’t very often a
European will concede superiority to an American in anything.”
“Blatz is right,” said Captain Harkins quietly. “There is no question
about the Goliath being the finest airship ever built. I expect it to live
up to our every hope in its performance in the air.”
“We were surprised when Gilbert Mathews informed Harry of the
advance in sailing plans,” Andy told his father.
“I was a trifle surprised, too,” admitted the vice president of
National Airways. “Mathews wired me the same day of the change in
plans and I replied that the Goliath would be able to advance its air
tests and keep the date to meet him at the pole even with the
earlier sailing. I can’t blame him, though, for wanting to take
advantage of the favorable ice conditions which are reported in the
north now.”
“The Neptune is a great submarine,” said Bert, “as far as subs go
but I’ll take an airplane or dirigible any day. Being shut up in one of
those things is like sailing around in a tub. I wouldn’t trade my radio
cubby on the Goliath for a dozen jobs on the Neptune.”
“Someone had to go on the Neptune and we’ll give Harry plenty
of credit for his nerve,” said Andy. “Will you be able to pick up his
message tonight?”
“I promised him I’d tune in every night at eight,” replied Bert.
“We ought to hear him plainly.”
Captain Harkins asked Andy to accompany him to the main office
to check over the final construction reports on the Goliath while
Andy’s father took Blatz on an inspection trip over the big bag. They
entered the luxuriously furnished gondola with its lounge and radio
room, the dining salon and the glass enclosed promenade. Then to
the upper deck of the gondola where the passenger cabins were
located. The interior finish was in a cool, pleasing gray, a favorable
contrast to the silver of the metalized hull.
After leaving the gondola, they walked down the main runway
which was built lengthwise down the middle of the Goliath. In the
earlier dirigibles this had been little more than a catwalk and none
too safe. A plunge off would have meant crashing through the outer
fabric and a fall to earth. In the Goliath the main runway was a
substantial affair six feet wide. Made of duralumin, it was strong but
light and guard rails proved ample protection for members of the
crew or passengers who might be permitted to view the interior of
the big airship.
The gas bags were inflated with, helium and held rigidly in place,
six of them in the forward part of the ship and six of them in the
after section. The transverse rings built of girders of duralumin
separated each bag and there was a narrow catwalk between each
large gas cell to facilitate the stopping of any possible leaks.
The motor gondolas were built inside the hull with the flexible
propeller shafts sticking through the side. There were six of the
motor gondolas on each side and each car was carefully insulated so
that fire could be confined to one section of the dirigible.
The mid-section of the Goliath was forbidden ground to Blatz for
it was here that space had been provided for the storing of airplanes
in time of war. A special device which hooked onto the planes while
they were in flight and lifted them into the hold in the center of the
airship had been perfected by Captain Harkins and Blatz was anxious
to see this. He was in for a disappointment that afternoon for
Charles High did not take him back that far. Instead, they stopped at
the fourth transverse girder where a stairway led to the top of the
dirigible. There were six of these stairs all told, each running to the
top and giving access to the observation cockpits. There was a
runway on top of the Goliath with strong cables stretched along the
side but it would be almost worth a man’s life to attempt to walk on
it while the dirigible was in motion and especially if the air happened
to be the least bit rough. A fine place, thought Blatz, for anyone who
was inclined to be seasick.
They walked along the outer runway toward the rear of the
Goliath and from this elevation Blatz had a real opportunity to realize
the size of the new king of the air—the craft which Reikoff had
termed an “air monster.” When they reached the after part of the
dirigible with its great fin and elevators, they descended into the
interior. Motor crews were busy tuning up the engines and the air
was filled with the tenseness of preparation.
At dinner that night Captain Harkins announced that he had
received word from the army air corps that the officers who would
report on the trial flights of the Goliath would be at Bellevue before
noon the next day.
“That means we’ll walk the Goliath out at one o’clock if the wind
and weather are favorable.”
The words came to Blatz through a daze. He had seen Andy and
Merritt Timms of the secret service conferring before dinner and
from the look Timms had shot his way he knew that he had been
the object of their discussion. The Goliath would be out of its hangar
tomorrow. Army officers would arrive and from then on there would
be little opportunity to damage the big ship. Tonight was the time!
Even though Andy might be suspicious, he would hardly believe him
capable of so daring an attempt on the Goliath. Blatz set his jaw
firmly. It was going to be a task he did not fancy for his love for the
Goliath had grown until he quailed at the thought of its destruction.
But he was a Rubanian, a member of the Gerka. He could not
escape from his duty.
Andy found an item of interest in the evening paper which he
showed Blatz. It was another bulletin from Rubania. Revolution was
threatening. Reikoff’s power was tottering.
Blatz read it eagerly. Perhaps he would not be forced to destroy
the Goliath after all. If he could only wait a few more days. But the
one big opportunity was at hand. Tonight was the logical one for his
task.
Andy noticed the European’s hands shook as he read the item,
but Blatz’s face showed no change of emotion.
“Come on, you two,” called Bert. “Let’s get over to my radio
shack and we’ll see if we can pick up Harry somewhere off Long
Island in his tin fish.”
It was nearly eight o’clock when they reached the radio shack
just outside the main hangar and it took Bert some time to time up
his apparatus. He plugged in on the main transmitter and a minute
later turned around with a grin.
“Harry is burning up the air,” chuckled Bert. “I was late coming in
and wants to know what I’d been doing. Accuses me of over-eating.
Imagine.”
The stream of dots and dashes which had been flickering through
the air ceased.
“We’re going to try the radiophone now,” explained Bert, “and
we’ll be able to talk back and forth.”
When Bert completed the proper adjustments Andy almost fell
out of his chair as Harry’s voice echoed in the little room.
“Hello Bert. Hello Andy,” said Harry, eight hundred miles away
and under water in the radio room of the Neptune. “Tell Blatz hello,
too, if he’s with you,” added Harry.
“The three of us are in the radio shack,” replied Bert, “and I
resent your implication that I overate tonight. I over-talked.”
“Which is just as bad,” came back the voice over the ether
waves.
Andy picked up the microphone and spoke to Harry.
“How is the trip going?” he asked, “and where are you?”
“We’re about 130 miles out of New York harbor,” replied Harry.
“The sea is a little choppy but nothing to write home about.
Everything is running smoothly so far and we ought to put in at
Plymouth in about 12 days.”
“How’s the air in your tin fish?” Bert wanted to know.
“Fine,” replied Harry. “The main hatch has been open all of the
time and I haven’t a thing to complain about. I’ll have to sign off
now and send some messages for Mr. Mathews. I’ll buzz you again
at eight in the morning.”
“Be sure you make it at eight o’clock our time,” warned Bert as
he signed off.
Bert had some work to do on his reserve radio equipment and
Andy went to his own office to look over the correspondence which
had accumulated during his absence in New York.
 Blatz, professing to be tired after the flight down from New York,
said he would go to the hotel and retire early. Andy watched until
the German civilian observer bad crossed the track and was well on
his way to the hotel. He had told Timms of his experience in New
York but the secret service man was still inclined not to doubt Blatz’s
right to be at Bellevue. Whatever watching of the observer was done
would have to be by Andy.
The assistant pilot of the Goliath was busy half an hour reading
and sorting the mail. It was unusually quiet around the hangar that
night so the scuffing of something against a stick caught Andy’s
attention. Someone was walking cautiously toward the hangar!
Andy remained in his chair, fingering through the pile of letters
before him. The guarded sound came again. At the end of a minute
he turned out the light and slipped out of his office. A small door
which led into the main hangar was open.
Andy returned to his office to get his flashlight. Remembering
that he had left it at the hotel, he found some matches beside a half
dozen red lanterns which were used to mark danger places on the
field. Since the Goliath used helium there was no danger of an
explosion from striking a match in the hangar or, for that matter,
aboard the Goliath itself.
The assistant pilot of the dirigible stepped quickly through the
door and paused to accustom his eyes to the heavy darkness of the
interior. He slipped off his shoes and then moved slowly toward the
lighter outline of the silvered hull of the Goliath.
Andy paused. Someone was moving slowly just ahead of him.
The young airman groped his way ahead, hands outstretched. The
next second he was clutching someone’s coat.
They came to grips, but only for a second. The unknown invader
of the hangar slipped out of his coat and Andy heard him running
out of the hangar.
Muttering to himself in disgust, Andy stooped to strike a match
and look at the coat he had seized. As he struck a match, he slipped
and stumbled headlong. The match dropped into a chunk of oily
waste. It flared and burst into flame but Andy remained motionless
on the floor, his head resting against a heavy wood block it had
struck.
The fire in the waste glowed brightly and leaped higher as it fed
on the oil which saturated the waste. Unless help reached Andy soon
the fire would spread to other parts of the hangar and the Goliath
itself would be in danger of destruction!
 CHAPTER XII
Trial Flight

While Andy lay senseless on the floor of the hangar with the
flames from the oil-soaked waste mounting higher, a shadow
appeared in the doorway. It was Blatz, whom Andy had surprised in
the hangar as he was about to attempt the destruction of the
Goliath.
The German observer crept closer to the flames and it was not
until he was almost at the blaze that he discerned the inert form of
the assistant pilot.
“Andy,” he cried, “Andy!”
There was no answer and Blatz acted with sudden determination.
He picked up the coat which Andy still clutched and used the
garment to beat out the flames. That task accomplished he turned
on his flashlight and bent down to examine the lump on Andy’s
forehead. The young airman groaned and Blatz chuckled grimly. The
game was nearly over. He was glad.
He managed to pick Andy up and carried the now half-conscious
American out of the hangar and into his office, where he turned on
the light.
Andy came to several minutes later and finally focused his eyes
long enough on one spot to see Blatz standing in front of him.
“I’m on to you,” cried Andy, struggling to get out of his chair.
“You’re trying to destroy the Goliath.”
“Easy, Andy, easy,” urged Blatz. “You’ve had another nasty bump
on your head. The Goliath is all right.”
“The last I remember is falling,” said Andy. “How did I get in here
and what are you doing around the hangar at this time of night?”
 “You took a tumble, all right,” agreed Blatz, “and the match you
had in your hand fell into a handful of greasy waste. You’d chased
me out of the hangar but if I hadn’t been curious when you failed to
follow, the whole thing might have burned up. As it was, I got back
in time to put out the fire before it got to you or the Goliath.”
Andy looked at the speaker with incredulous eyes.
“If that’s true,” he said, “I have done you a great wrong.”
Before the observer could reply, Bert burst through the door.
“Big news,” he said. “The Rubanian air force rebelled this
afternoon and forced Dictator Reikoff clear out of the country. I just
got that bulletin over in the radio shack.”
“You’re sure there’s no mistake?” asked Blatz.
“Positive,” replied Bert. “It was an Associated Press dispatch
broadcast through the courtesy of one of the Louisville papers.”
Blatz looked at Andy and they smiled understanding.
“What’s the joke,” demanded Bert.
“There isn’t any joke,” replied Blatz gravely, “and I can now tell
you the truth. I am Lieut. Serge Larko of the Rubanian air force. I
was assigned to special duty as an agent of the Gerka, our secret
police, and my mission was to make a non-stop flight to the United
States, make my way to Bellevue and bring about the destruction of
the Goliath.”
Bert stared at him in speechless wonder but Andy nodded and
said.
“Then you were piloting the gray monoplane we chased that
afternoon?”
“Right,” said Serge. “You gave me a real scare.”
“And you went into that warehouse on the east side while we
were in New York?” continued Andy.
“Right again.”
“And tonight you went into the hangar for the purpose of
destroying the Goliath?”
“I started in with that purpose,” admitted Serge, “but I’m too
much of an airman. After I got inside I couldn’t bring myself to
damage that beautiful craft. I was about to leave when you entered
and we met in the dark. You know the rest of the story.”
“I know that it was mighty fortunate for me that you came back,”
replied Andy and be grasped Serge warmly by the hand. “Now that
the menace of Reikoff has been removed from your homeland, I’m
sure we’ll become real friends. We’ll see Dad and Captain Harkins
about having you added to the permanent staff of the National
Airways.”
“I’d like that,” smiled Serge happily, “but they’ll probably order
me away from Bellevue or the secret service may take a hand in my
case.”
“I think Merritt Timms can be made to see things my way,”
replied Andy.
“When did you first suspect me?” asked Serge. “Almost as soon
as you arrived,” admitted Andy. “If you remember I questioned you
about Friedrichshafen and suggested that you might know Karl
Staab? When you admitted that you knew Staab I decided
something was wrong for as far as I know Staab never existed
outside of my own mind.”
“But I really have been at Friedrichshafen,” replied Serge.
“I believed that,” said Andy, “for your technical knowledge
showed you had been trained with the Germans. Now let’s go over
to the hotel and see Dad and Captain Harkins.”
The conference at the hotel was interesting and successful and
before the long evening drew to a close it was agreed that Serge
Larko, who had assumed his real identity, should become a
permanent member of the Goliath’s crew.
Even though the next day promised to be unusually busy, it was
midnight before they were in bed but they were up at the crack of
dawn.
Serge was happier than he had been in months and Andy felt
that a great weight had been lifted from his mind. There was no
further danger to the Goliath from inside sources and they were
practically ready for the test flights.
 Lieut. Jim Crummit, in command of the army pursuit ships at
Bellevue, stopped them as they left the hotel.
“Will you want us to stand by this afternoon in case you decide
to take the Goliath aloft?” he asked Captain Harkins.
“I hardly think that will be necessary, Lieutenant!” replied the
commander of the Goliath. “Any flight we might make would be
confined to the limits of the field.”
“Right, sir,” said the army officer as he turned and walked toward
the hangars which housed the army ships.
At eight o’clock Andy, Serge and Bert gathered in the radio shack
and Bert turned his set to talk with the Neptune. There was a steady
crackle of interference but Bert stepped up the power with the hope
that he would get through to the Neptune.
“Looks like we’re out of luck this morning,” he finally announced,
“but I’ll give it one more try.” He turned to the dial again, tuning so
carefully the black disks hardly moved.
“Harry’s coming in now,” he said. “I’ll have it strong in a minute.”
Bert switched over to the radiophone loudspeaker and the boys
heard Harry calling, “Hello Bellevue. Good morning.”
“Good morning yourself,” replied Bert. “Have fish for breakfast?”
“Not this morning,” replied Harry. “Besides, it’s mid-forenoon out
where we are. How’s the Goliath?”
Andy picked up the microphone and told Harry briefly what had
taken place the night before, adding that Serge had been added to
the crew of the Goliath and would make the trip to the North pole.
“I’m glad to hear that,” replied Harry over the magic waves which
bridged the hundreds of miles between them. “I’ll say hello to Serge
if he’ll take the mike now.”
The young Rubanian conversed with Harry for several minutes
and then the operator of the Neptune signed off.
“I’ll be back on the air tonight at eight,” he told Bert. “Be sure
and let me know how the Goliath behaves on her first trip out of the
hangar.”
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