Larry sent his craft into a sharp dive. Tommy, trying to prevent the maneuver, came straight toward the spot they had occupied, but missed.

Now the clouds hid them. By use of his instruments he could keep on a level keel, Larry knew, and with the engine throttled off, they could not be traced by its roar.

Presently they sailed out into a clear area and Larry sighed thankfully. He watched for a landing field beside a lake shaped like a half-moon. That would tell him he could set down on the landing spot the millionaire had built before going West.

Then he saw it. They began to drop swiftly, coming ever closer to the field. And then they set down, safe and unmolested.
271

Before the chums were clear of the runway, Tommy set down his ship, tumbled out and let the woman with him—the yacht stewardess—get out as best she could. “What do you mean, double-crossing me?” screamed Tommy at detective Whiteside. “Why have you tried to get the emeralds after you promised me half of them?”

“The man has gone crazy,” said Whiteside.

“They are all in it together, Mr. Everdail,” Tommy shouted, turning toward the millionaire.

“What are you doing with that stewardess?” demanded Larry. “She joined you on the lawn when you came from behind the trees.”

“Be still,” cried Everdail. “We can thresh it out later. Right now let’s get those emeralds.”

Larry produced a knife, and Mr. Everdail slashed the life preserver to ribbons.

There was a gasp. The life preserver was empty.

Then everyone began to talk at once, as accusations flew back and forth.

“Boss, I want you to take a look at this-here stuff I brought from your house,” said Jeff, drawing a parcel from his pocket.

“Good night!” Sandy was amazed. “Jeff, that’s the family history of the Everdails, that I saw when I visited the farm boys and found out you and Mimi were married.”
272

“That-there is it,” agreed Jeff, taking several tintypes from an envelope. “Boss, read that history of your family and see if it makes it plain why anybody wanted to destroy your gems.”

In the light of a flare, Mr. Everdail perused the pages.

“As I live and breathe!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” grinned Jeff. “Thanks to Sandy for leaving the book there, and thanks to—a certain relative of yours for leaving a marker at the right place. Now, take a look at these pictures out of your family album. They are pictures of the man who originally got the emeralds in India, and his son. Whose face that you know is close to being the same?”

With the scream of a madman, Mr. Whiteside leaped to the side of the group.

“Yes!” he babbled. “Yes! I am the son of the branch of your family that originally had the emeralds. My grandfather, for spite against my father, willed them to your family. Those emeralds ought to be mine—and my sister’s”—here he gestured toward the stewardess.
273

“Yes!” cried Whiteside Everdail—as they now learned his name was—“I grew up hating Atley Everdail’s family. I enlisted in the flying corps, got into his esquadrille, made a buddy of him, won his trust!

“I worked into his confidence, and watched every chance to get the emeralds. My time came when his wife went to London. I had my sister—stewardess, she was—already on the yacht.

“I beat the yacht to London. With her help—forced by threats—I got into the hotel and destroyed the gems—I thought. But on the way back to my room I saw Captain Parks, and began to suspect. I compelled ............