whispered, "get back to your berth
and dress. I'll see you in the cabin ahead. Act as though you know
nothing. Understand?"

Puffy grinned sadly.

"That'll be easy," he answered, "but I've been around those violins
that talk death before. Don't like a tommy gun unless it's in my own
hands."

"Okay," Drake said grimly. "Keep your mouth shut and you may get your
wish."

He slipped into his shoes, dressing quickly, went toward the tiny wash
room halfway up the aisle. One of Lardner's men was making a hurried
exit. They met, heads down, with a jarring blow. The gunman started to
swear loudly, caught himself and said in a mock pleasant voice,

"Good morning. Say, ain't this a darb of a trip?"

Drake nodded.

"Guess I'll splash a little water over my face if you're done."

The man's heavy face lighted in an embarrassed smile. He stepped
hurriedly to one side.

"Oh--oh sure. The sink's all yours."

Once inside, Drake locked the door quickly. He washed the sleepiness
from his eyes. So the laugh was on him after all. Lardner was in
control of the ship, and headed for the lost Flaming Diamond. Where,
Drake wondered, did he and Puffy Adams fit into the picture?

Suddenly there was a difference in the tune the motors were humming.
The plane slanted down at an abrupt angle and Drake pitched forward
against the wall. Struggling up, he heard a sharp knock at the door.

"Better strap yourself into a seat," a strange voice carried through
the wall, muffled and far away.

He turned the lock quickly, lurched out, and felt an automatic in the
small of his back.

"Hey!" Drake feigned surprise. "What the hell?"

"Never mind, buddy," the man gave him a sharp push toward the cabin,
"get yourself strapped in. We ain't got time to tell stories."

A sharp prod of the gun settled the argument. Silently Drake went
forward. Puffy was already in his seat, his face an expressionless
mask.

"Remember," he whispered, "keep your chin stiff and wait for a break.
The fun has really started."

* * * * *

The plane had dropped and leveled off. Lardner's men seemed to have
forgotten their captives in the excitement. They sat with faces glued
to the windows, watching curiously as George Lardner at the controls
brought them down in ever tightening circles toward the valley below.

Adams nudged his companion.

"Look at 'em," he whispered. "The rattiest looking bunch of bums I've
ever seen. What in hell