," he told her frankly. "I've lost my radio bearings
and the gas is getting low. Have your passengers fasten their safety
belts and see that there is no smoking. If we crash we don't want any
extra risk of fire."

Sue returned to the cabin, hoping desperately that her face would not
give away the gravity of their situation when she asked the passengers
to put on their safety belts. She went from one to another, adjusting
the belts, and informing them that they were about to land, but she
didn't add that it was likely to be a crash landing. When everyone was
fastened to the seats, Sue reported to the chief pilot.

"Get back in the cabin. We're going down," he said curtly.

Sue watched the altimeter. The needle dropped gently from the 3,000
feet at which they had been flying, but the wall of fog still enveloped
the earth.

They nosed through it carefully, the air speed cut down to a hundred
miles an hour. Even that speed was a terrific one at which to crash
into the ground. Sue was too busy thinking about her passengers to
sense her own emotions.

For five minutes the pilot groped his way down and suddenly the nose of
the big ship shot through the fog. The plane flattened out 200 feet
above the ground and skimmed along over farmhouses with the motors
roaring heavily.

Suddenly the ship heeled over and for a sickening instant, Sue thought
they were crashing until she caught sight of an airport and knew the
pilot was sliding in for a fast landing.

As the plane touched the ground the motors sucked the last fuel from
the tanks. The tri-motor rolled up to the hangar and Sue looked at the
name painted above the large doors. They had come down at Joliet,
nearly thirty miles south of their course.

The pilot came back.

"Weather's still bad around Chicago," he announced. "We'll have taxis
here in a few minutes to take you in."

Sue helped her passengers collect their hand baggage and sheperded them
into the taxis. In half an hour the last one was safely away for
Chicago, and Sue had time to sit down and have a little cry all by
herself.

They remained at Joliet until mid-afternoon, when the fog cleared and
they hopped the short distance to the field at Chicago. It was then
that Sue learned that the second section of the _Night Flyer_ was down
at Sterling, Illinois, with the weather west of Chicago still foggy and
little chance of it clearing before mid-evening. Sue could imagine the
wrath of Mattie Clark, who had