CHAPTER IX JEFF ENCOUNTERS A “JINX”

Turning with a confidential air and addressing Dick, for whom he seemed to have the greater liking, Mr. “Everdail” spoke.

“I’ve just thought of a good scheme. Has Jeff—er—taken you into his confidence any?”

Sandy, helpless to interfere, heard Dick give the substance of what they had learned from the superstitious pilot. The man continued:

“That lets me snap right down to my plan. Now we don’t know where those emeralds are. We don’t know which people used the seaplane, or whether the man who jumped has them and has gotten away or not. But if I should fade out of sight, and no one but my dependable Sky Patrol knows I’m around——”

“Your dependable Sky Patrol!” Sandy thought. “Going to try to use us now. Well——”
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“If no one else knows I’m around—I can watch and see a lot that others might miss. I’m going to have that seaplane brought here—and then I’ll be around, watching to see who comes snooping—if anybody does. As I live and breathe, I think that’s a great idea, don’t you?”

Dick agreed readily.

“All right, then. You can tell your other comrade—Larry, you said you call him, Dick. I’ll leave a note for Jeff. Now I’ll go on up to the house and write it and make a couple of telephone calls—and then I’ll drop out of things—but you’ll hear from me off and on till we get those emeralds safe in our hands. Then—even while we’re waiting—if you can get your parents’ consent to stay, which I think can be arranged by Jeff—Larry can take some flying navigation—you, Dick, can study engines and construction, or navigation—whatever you like.”

He put a hand on Sandy’s shoulder and the latter managed not to wince or draw away.

“Sandy can have the run of my library, full of books on engineering and mechanics—and you’ll be learning while you help me get those emeralds and find out who flew the seaplane and who helped them on the yacht.”

“I know I can get my father’s consent to ‘visit you’ here,” Dick said eagerly. “And I like the plan,” he added heartily.

Sandy, watching their confidant stroll toward the closed mansion, turned a cold face to Dick.
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“You’re a fine Sky Patrol,” he grumbled. “You swallowed everything he said, like a big softie! And told him everything you knew,” he continued, bitterly.

“Why not?” Dick wanted to know.

“You wait till Larry comes and I tell him my theory!”

“All right,” Dick agreed cheerfully. “But don’t start in earning your nickname all over again,” he warned.

“I’ll have you calling me ‘Successful Sandy’ before I’m through.”

The drone of an incoming airplane took them racing to the landing spot where Jeff came down to report that he had taken the unconscious seaplane pilot to a hospital where it was declared that he had a bad blow on his temple and might not recover his mental clearness for many days.

“And I’m glad I’m done with this-here amphibian,” he added. “Had more trouble than I ever had before. I think the crate’s hoodooed.”

“Maybe the ghost haunting the hangar ‘put a spell’ on it,” Dick chuckled. “Well—don’t, worry, Jeff. You’re down safe, and——”

Sandy shook his head. Let them take Jeff up to the house, he decided, and watch the two men when they met. Dick, not comprehending the idea behind Sandy’s headshake, nevertheless, did not finish his sentence.
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The roar of a motor boat began to attract their attention and as they went to the wharf again, Jeff wanted explanations of how they got in with the airplane.

“You won’t make me believe Dick flew that-there crate,” he declared.

“No,” Dick agreed. “I didn’t. You’ll find the man who did up at the house.”

Jeff swerved aside on a graveled path, leaving them to aid the caretaker and his mechanic to bring the hydroplane to its mooring and let Larry jump out to join them.

They compared notes eagerly. Dick and Sandy could hardly forego interrupting one another as they brought their story up to the minute after hearing how Larry had helped to get the pilot to the amphibian, discovering and rescuing the life preserver on the way.

“Now, Larry,” Dick said, finally, “Mr. ‘Everdail’ said we could take you into our confidence, and he’s probably telling Jeff everything. Suspicious Sandy has a theory all worked out. I suppose Jeff is a double-dyed villain, and this Mr. ‘Everdail’ will turn out——”

“It’s no joking matter,” Sandy spoke sharply. “You listen to my idea and see what you think.”
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Jeff, the so-called Mr. “Everdail,” and the pilot and passenger of the seaplane, as well as the presumably injured man whom they had not seen—all these were members of an international band of robbers, Sandy claimed.

“The man who jumped with the parachute and life preserver must be named Gaston—from what the pilot said to you, Larry,” he went on.

“Then he must be French, maybe,” Dick said.

“Most likely he is,” agreed Larry. “But if he was——”

“Wait till I get to that,” urged Sandy. “Well, they learned, somehow, that Mr. Everdail was in California and his wife was taking the emeralds to London. They didn’t have any conspirator on the yacht—then—or else they would have gotten the real emeralds long ago. So there was just those five in the band—Jeff, Mr. ‘Everdail,’ Gaston, the man we haven’t seen, and the injured pilot.”

“There might have been two gangs, one of three, one of two—or three bands—one of two, one of two, one of one——”

“Don’t poke fun at him, Dick. He argues reasonably so far.”

“Thanks, Larry,” Sandy was grateful. “All right, then, the band planned the work in London, at the hotel—that’s how Jeff knew the emeralds were imitations they poured acid on.”
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“Did they carry acid just in case?” Dick could not restrain his tendency to tease.

“I think it was something they meant to throw on anybody who tried to stop them.”

“Golly-gracious! That might be,” Larry exclaimed.

“Anyhow, they discovered the false emeralds and tried to destroy them.” Sandy was more confident at Larry’s acceptance of his ideas.

“They managed to get somebody on the yacht,” Sandy guessed, “and then to be sure that there was no hitch, divided into three groups—Jeff, possibly the ringleader after all, in his airplane, two in the seaplane, the other two in the amphibian.”

“The confederate on the yacht was to secure the gems, somehow, and they must have had a radio somewhere to get messages,” Larry was beginning to see daylight and to concur with Sandy’s opinions.

“Yes,” Sandy nodded, “and they all went to the appointed place——”

“But Jeff interfered with the amphibian,” objected Dick, “and you forget to account for the two men in the hydroplane.”
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“I think it came out the way it does in books,” Sandy declared. “Each set wanted those emeralds, and they tried to outdo one another—and maybe the hydroplane was the honest one of the lot, with Mr. Everdail’s—the real one’s—caretaker, summoned by the captain.”

“But Jeff had us signal them,” Dick said.

“They must know Jeff,” added Larry.

“I know how that fits,” Sandy spoke earnestly. “The hydroplane men were honest, and Jeff worked into their confidence and offered to help them—to discover the plan!”

“Well—that’s possible,” Larry admitted.

“We know what happened. Jeff signaled, but he knew the amphibian was coming, and the seaplane, to make sure neither would break down and leave him helpless—while he supervised,” Sandy had good going now, “the seaplane got the life preserver, and then Jeff decided that they might get away, tried to follow—and while the seaplane was flying, its passenger got the emeralds free of the life preserver, and then——”

“Now you’re stalled,” chuckled Dick, but Sandy was not defeated.

“The passenger, while they were high up, threw something and hit the pilot, the seaplane went out of control, the man jumped—and then cut free his parachute, cut the sack holding the emeralds, and hid in the swamp.”

“Why wouldn’t he take the rubber boat?”
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“It would be missed, Larry. He was too bright for that.”

“How could he get away?”

“Why, Dick! Wait till everybody was gone, then take to the rubber boat, get himself picked up——”

“If the boat isn’t there when they bring up the seaplane, I’ll think you’ve hit the nail on the head,” Larry conceded.

“I know I have.”

“Sh-h-h! Here comes Jeff.” Larry turned. “Well, Jeff——”

“He says you know all about him, but he was gone when I got this-here note.” He failed to display the missive, to Sandy’s disappointment. It would have provided a fine chance to compare the writing with what he had seen in the letter supposed to have come from California. And—if he was really flying East, why had Mr. Everdail written? A letter, by mail, would be slower than an airplane flight!

“I don’t like this plan a-tall, a-tall,” Jeff went on, dubiously. “That seaplane is jinxed.”

“Oh—pshaw, Jeff——”

“I don’t care, Larry. Listen—she cracked up and her pilot got a bad smash—from something! And—the emeralds vanished!”
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“We recovered the life preserver, anyhow,” chuckled Dick. “And here comes the yacht so we can return that much property. I tell you, the Sky Patrol has accomplished something!”

Jeff did not share Larry’s smile. He imitated Sandy’s scowl.

“He says for me to shove my crate in the hangar, stay here, get your parents to let you make a visit and Larry learn flying and so on, but if I put my crate in that hangar—it haunted and now the jinxed seaplane to come in—any instruction I give will be at your own risk.”

“I’m not worrying,” Larry said.

“And say—here’s a queer one.” Jeff changed the subject. “I notice them chunks of gum wasn’t in the amphibian! Did you take ’em out when you stayed back in the hangar, Sandy?”

“No—or, if he did, somebody else put the same kind in the seaplane.” As Larry spoke he withdrew from his pocket a dark, hard object.

“Give that here!” cried Sandy, snatching at it.

He tore at the hard substance with finger-nails, working it flatter, and then, with an exultant screech, boy-like but not good practice for an amateur detective, he pointed to something dark, green, glowing.

“There’s one of the Everdail Emeralds!” he exulted.