ring an occasional groan. He started the engine and took his seat.
There was an increasing roar as he opened the throttle, and soon he
descended upon the field from which he had set out. He noted that there
was a man in an automobile at some distance from the hangar, evidently
waiting to take care of the plane and his still unconscious passenger.
Rapidly resuming his ordinary clothing, he stepped into his automobile
and was soon back in his own rooms, poring over the blueprints and
notebooks.

* * * * *

Seaton and Crane both felt that something was wrong when they approached
the landing field and saw that the landing-lights were not burning, as
they always were kept lighted whenever the plane was abroad after dark.
By the dim light of the old moon Crane made a bumpy landing and they
sprang from their seats and hastened toward the house. As they neared it
they heard a faint moan and turned toward the sound, Seaton whipping out
his electric torch with one hand and his automatic pistol with the
other. At the sight that met their eyes, however, he hastily replaced
the weapon and bent over Shiro, a touch assuring him that the other two
were beyond the reach of help. Silently they picked up the injured man
and carried him gently into his own room, barely glancing at the wrecked
safe on the way. Seaton applied first-aid treatment to the ghastly wound
in Shiro's head, which both men supposed to be certainly fatal, while
Crane called a noted surgeon, asking him to come at once. He then
telephoned the coroner, the police, and finally Prescott, with whom he
held a long conversation.

Having done all in their power for the unfortunate man, they stood at
his bedside, their anger all the more terrible for the fact that it was
silent. Seaton stood with every muscle tense. He was seething with rage,
his face purple and his eyes almost emitting sparks, his teeth clenched
until the muscles of his jaws stood out in bands and lumps. His right
hand, white-knuckled, gripped the butt of his pistol, while under his
left the brass rail of the bed slowly bent under the intensity of his
unconscious muscular effort. Crane stood still, apparently impassive,
but with his face perfectly white and with every feature stern and cold
as though cut from marble. Seaton was the first to speak.

"Mart," he gritted, his voice husky with fury, "a man who would leave
another man alone to die after giving him that, ain't a man-