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Joe remarked, “if he realized he’d played right into our hands!”
    A few minutes later the Hardys were walking toward a small frame building. A sign reading “Ace Air Service” spanned its entire width along the roof. Another, smaller sign, “Office & Operations,” hung above the doorway. On the aircraft parking ramp the boys saw three single-engine and two multiengine aircraft bearing the firm’s name. As they entered the building, a voice called to them:
    â€œFrank and Joe Hardy?”
    The boys turned to see a tall, lean man walking toward them. He wore a tan cloth jacket and sunglasses with green-tinted lenses. He extended his hand in greeting.
    â€œI’m Randy Watson,” he said. “I fly for Ace Air Service. I have a plane all set.” The pilot added he had often flown their father on trips. “I’ve heard a lot about you fellows,” he added, smiling. “Are you on a case, or just going on a sightseeing ride?”
    Before answering, Frank walked over to a large aeronautical chart attached to the wall. With his finger he circled an area, colored in shades of light green and brown, northwest of Bayport.
    â€œWe want to take some aerial photographs in this locale,” he said. “Joe and I are sure we spotted an ex-convict there. We’re curious to know what he’s up to.”
    Randy stepped close to the chart and estimated the distance between Bayport and the area Frank had indicated.
    â€œThat’s not far by air,” he observed. “We can use one of the single-engine ships.”
    â€œWe’d like to reach the area about noon,” said Frank.
    The pilot checked his wrist watch. “That means we’ll have to take off within the next ten or fifteen minutes.”
    Joe hurried to the airport restaurant to order sandwiches and milk for their lunch, while Frank returned to the brothers’ car to pick up the aerial camera and films. The boys reached the flight line just as Randy was completing a preflight check of the aircraft. In a few minutes they were strapped in their seats and taxiing toward the active runway.
    The pilot remarked, “Because of the direction of the wind, that runway is the only one I can use to head the plane into the wind.”
    He tuned his radio to the proper frequency and contacted Bayport tower. An immediate reply crackled from the plane’s receiver.
    â€œAce Service Flight Two-Six is cleared to runway One-Niner. Wind’s from the southeast at fifteen knots. Altimeter setting, Two-Niner-Eight-Six.”
    Randy paused to check his instruments, controls, and engine magnetos. The tower then cleared him for immediate take-off. Turning into the runway, he eased the throttle ahead. Soon he and his passengers were airborne and taking a course to the northwest.
    The boys gazed down at the earth below. The terrain became more hilly with each passing mile. The expanses of wooded areas looked like rumpled deep-green carpet. Here and there, lakes and small streams reflected the sun in bright flashes almost blinding in their intensity.
    The pilot adjusted his course, checked his watch against the small clock mounted on the instrument panel, then said to Frank and Joe, “We should be coming up on the area you’re looking for in a few minutes.”
    The Hardys scanned the surface below more intently. Far to the left, Frank saw a narrow ribbon of paved road that he surmised to be the highway from which he and Joe had turned onto the secondary road. Frank requested the pilot to fly closer to the highway.
    â€œThere it is!” declared Joe. “That must be the secondary road we drove along!”
    Frank peered directly downward. The road itself was not visible, but a telltale cleft that snaked among the trees told him it was there. Randy banked steeply to the right and paralleled the road.
    â€œCan we fly lower?” Frank asked.
    Randy examined the terrain. “It seems to be