The young aviator left the Interstate plant very thoughtful and
serious. Dave decided that he had assumed a big responsibility. He
seemed to feel an actual ponderous weight on his young shoulders.

A score of theories ran riot through his mind its to the motive for
the theft of the Drifter. Then he decided that it must be some
professional who had done the act. It was hard to fathom the
ultimate plans of such an abstractor, who would not dare to use the
machine in any public way and could scarcely sell it.

"It's a puzzle, a big, worrying poser," said Dave, walking slowly
from the factory grounds.

About half a mile city-wards from the plant Dave passed through a
square devoted to public park purposes. He sat down on a
tree-shaded rustic bench. There, alone, quiet and undisturbed, he
set his wits at work.

Whoever it was who had committed the theft must have been a
professional airman. Dave formulated a plan to ask Mr. Randolph if
anybody in Bolton, or any employee of the plant was missing. In
case this was not discovered then some stranger must have come to
Bolton. There might be a trace found of the party at some of the
hotels.

"There's a bit of detective work to do by some one besides myself,"
decided Dave. "I'm going to suggest this plan to Mr. Randolph."

"Hello, boss," spoke an approaching voice as Dave got up to return
to the plant.