"Of all the grotesque objects to drive a murderer scatty, a baseball came whackin' over the fence through the trees, and bounced and rolled.
They'd probably come after it Davis had just time to get back to the field and mingle with the crowd comin' to shower bouquets on me.
"That's about all. Of course Manning refused to prosecute or even name the feller who attacked him! But, of all people, he wasn't protecting Davis. He was protecting Jean from being involved in it.
"As for the little trap I set, postin' the copper in front of the cenotaph and hoping Trowbridge would keep him there all night, there was real evidence in it. You could prove Manning must have disguised himself as Davis..."
"And you thought," interposed Cy, "Davis would return to clear out the evidence."
H.M. looked startled. "Lord love a duck, no!" ' "No? But Davis was standing there at the time you gave the orders!"
"Sure. I meant him to hear. It wasn't the disguise business; that's not criminal in itself. But, if I had things worked out right before I got confirmation, don't you see what Davis thought was in that pigskin bag? A hundred thousand soakers! Wouldn't you have had a try for it, son? I thought he would. And he did. Finish."
Crystal spoke softly. "What about... Jean?"
"You know and I know," H.M. answered, "that Jean's goin' to get over this. No life is exactly ruined at twenty-one...."
"Or any other age," Cy said.
"And besides," added H.M., "we can't have any of our gals worshippin' these All-for-Success boys, now can we?" He gave her a straight, curious look.
"Flight twenty-eight, "called a hollow voice from a loud-speaker, as Crystal had opened her mouth to speak. ''Flight twenty-eight Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington...."
Sir Henry Merrivale, giving a galvanized start, began to make fussed gestures as though searching for the bag which a porter had already taken. Together with others who had arrived by the alleged "limousine," they propelled the great man round into the main hall of the airport.
The formalities were concluded. Crystal, Cy, and District Attorney Byles watched from the front windows as H.M.'s plane, with the latter finally inside, wheeled round amid engine spurts and bumped over to take its place on the runway.
"He said that for me!’ Crystal breathed.
"Said what for you?" asked Cy.
"I kept saying you had to succeed," said Crystal tensely. "And I kept thinking it didn't matter two hoots how you did it! But I don't believe that now."
"For myself, angel. I prefer an easy-going life." he grinned down into her eyes. "Except, of course, in one respect."
"Two months in Bermuda?" cried Crystal.
"Two months in Bermuda!" And he put his arms round her.
Outside the silver plane, shimmering with light points, slid along the runway as its engines spurted, and then throbbed into a deepening roar. District Attorney Byles, elbow in one hand and chin propped against fist, looked at the scene in such odd fashion that Cy spoke.
"Anything wrong, Mr. Byles?" The roar of the plane deepened; gently the silver shape left ground. "Oh, no!" said Byles. "No, nothing at all. I ; merely felt a twinge of pity for a fine and handsome capital." "What's that?"
"I was just wondering," Byles said musingly, "what that old devil will be up to in Washington." The plane swept over the trees and was on its way.
.