But the step behind him was accelerated, and he was hailed by name as
Morales. Jack halted. Here was the first ordeal to be passed. Well, he
was prepared for it. According to his plan, he had bound his face in a
handkerchief and intended to pretend having the toothache. The
swathings partly hid his features, and the pulled-down hat further
obscured them.
"I'm busy. Don't delay me," he growled in Spanish, imitating Morales'
voice.
The newcomer approached. It was Muller.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE NIGHT ATTACK
When Jack's figure had become merged in the shadows of the grove, big
Bob, standing beside the airplane, reached a decision.
"Not a soul in sight here," he muttered to himself, once more letting
his gaze rove over his surroundings. "Jack thought it would be best
for me to stay here, but nobody's going to monkey with the plane. I'm
going to follow him--till he reaches the house, anyhow. He may need my
help."
Thus the big fellow salved his conscience for departing from orders.
But he was so eager to take a hand in proceedings that he felt it
would be torture to stay behind. He was dressed in Von Arnheim's
clothes. And his build was that of the German aviator. If he were
observed, he would not be suspected.
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