all in shirtsleeves. This would certainly be something else to tell her daughter in New York---if she ever got there.
"Grandma," the man who had introduced himself as the captain said, "do you get frightened easily?"
It seemed an odd question, and she thought about it before answering. "Not easily, I think. I get nervous sometimes, though not as much as I used to. When you get older there isn't a lot left to be frightened of."
The captain's eyes were fixed searchingly on her fare. "I've decided to tell you something, then ask for your help. We don't have too much time, so I'll make it fast. I suppose you've noticed the man sitting next to you, back in the cabin---on the window side."
"The skinny one, with the little mustache?"
"Yes," Gwen said. "That's him."
Mrs. Quonsett nodded. "He's a strange one. He won't talk to anybody, and he has a little case with him that he won't let go of. I think he's worried about something."
"We're worried, too," Vernon Demerest said quietly. "We've reason to believe that in that case he has a bomb. We want to get it away from him. That's why I need your help."
One of the surprising things about being up here with the pilots, Ada Quonsett thought, was how quiet it was. In the silence which followed what had just been said, she could hear a message coming in on an overhead speaker near where she was seated. "Trans America Two, this is Toronto Center. Your position is fifteen miles east of Kleinburg beacon. Advise your flight level and intentions."
The man in the other front seat, on the left, whose face she hadn't yet seen, was answering. "Toronto Center from Trans America Two. Leaving flight level two niner zero. Request continued slow descent until we advise. No change in our intentions to return for landing at Lincoln."
"Roger, Trans America. We are clearing traffic ahead of you. You may continue slow descent."
A third man, at a little table to her right, facing still more dials, leaned across to the one who had been speaking. "I make it an hour and seventeen minutes in. That's using forecast winds, but if the front's moved faster than expected, it could be less."
"We are going back, aren't we?" Mrs. Quonsett found it hard to restrain the excitement in her voice.
Demerest nodded. "But you're the only one who knows, besides ourselves. For the time being you must keep it a secret, and above all, Guerrero---that's the man with the case---mustn't find out."
Ada Ouonsett thought breathlessly: was this really happening to her? It was all quite thrilling, like something on TV. It was a little frightening perhaps, but she decided not to think too much about that. The main thing was---she was here, a part of it all, hobnobbing with the captain, sharing secrets, and what would her daughter say about that?
"Well, will you help us?"
"Oh, of course. I expect you want me to see if I can get that case away..."
"No!" Vernon Demerest swung farther around, leaning over the back of his seat for emphasis. He said sternly, "You must not so much as put your hands on that case, or even near it."
"If you say so," Mrs. Quonsett acknowledged meekly, "I won't."
"I do say so. And remember, it's important that Guerrero have no idea we know about his case or what's inside. Now, as I did with Miss Meighen a little while ago, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do when you go back to the cabin. Please listen carefully."
When he had finished, the little old lady from San Diego permitted herself a small, brief smile. "Oh, yes; yes, I think I can do that."
She was getting out of her seat, with Gwen about to open the flight deck door for them to go, when Demerest asked, "That flight from Los Angeles you stowed away on---they said you were trying to reach New York. Why?"
She told him about being lonely sometimes on the West coast, and wanting to visit her married daughter in the east.
"Grandma," Vernon Demerest said, "if we pull this off I'll personally guarantee that not only will any trouble you're in be taken care of, but this airline will give you a ticket to New York, and back, first class."
Mrs. Quonsett was so touched, she almost cried.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" For once she found it hard to speak. What a remarkable man, she thought; such a kind, dear man!