"Lowell Howard Morrow - Islands in the Air" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrow Lowell Howard)

A Disappearance

WEEK after week rolled away, the mellow days of September were at hand and the islands were
nearing completion. Then one morning as the Professor and I stepped from the plane we were met by
McCann with the startling intelligence that the office had been entered during the night, but a cursory
examination had revealed nothing disturbed.

The Professor stared blankly a moment, then rushed away to the office. We followed breathlessly.

The outer door had been forced, its lock being broken, but beyond this no damage had been done so far
as we could discover. Anxiously we ran over the papers--not a print was missing.

"Nothing gone," said the Professor. "Yet the place has been entered. What for?"

"Perhaps the thief was frightened away before he could grab anything," Isuggested.

"I don't see how he got in," said McCann. "I have made sure that every guard was at his post throughout
the night."

"I hold you personally responsible, McCann," said the Professor severely. "See that it doesn't happen
again." And with that he turned and walked away leaving McCann with a crestfallen air.

I felt sorry for the Scotchman. He seemed devoted to the Professor, and I believed the rebuke to be
undeserved.

The ridge which the Professor had selected for his daring experiment was the center of an unbroken
wilderness far remote from any human habitation. It was fifty miles from the university, and was a land of
no roads and but few dim trails. The ridge dropped away to the north and to the south in a series of
valleys heavily clothed in virgin timber. It was admirably situated for a secret enterprise. The vicinity was
never visited save by hunters, and this was not the hunting season. Even the route of the mail planes was
far to the north.

One night not long after the forced entrance to the office McCann disappeared. The chief electrician had
called at his office as usual the next morning. He was not there. Nor could he be found anywhere on the
grounds. As it was against the rules for any one to leave the premises under any circumstances, without a
permit from the Professor, we stared in blank dismay. A careful search of the surrounding woods brought
no clue. We followed up a rumor that he had been seen in his car driving out of the city at daybreak, but
we could not verify it.

The Professor, wild with suspense, anxiety and remorse for having criticised his faithful aid, rummaged
among his papers and discovered that the blue prints covering secret parts of one of his giant condensers
were missing.

The scene that followed I will not attempt to describe. The Professor lost his head. He raved like a
madman, condemning everybody, threatening everybody. He said he would give up the work, commit
suicide and be through with it all. But at length he grew calm, asked my pardon for the outburst and
ordered the work to go on.

"I simply can't believe that McCann is a traitor, Bob," said the Professor. "I'd stake my life on his