"This is it," he said quickly. "I knew Wade was mixed up in this business. Harror isn't the real boss here."
Blake was half way into a uniform of the Silver Masks. He finished his job before answering. Then he spoke.
"I know you and Ferrell hate Wade's guts," he said slowly, "but . . ."
"It's not me so much," O'Toole protested. "Ferrell said long ago that Wade was in this mess. He didn't seem to get any action on the case. Now with the guy Slater saying Harror isn't the boss, there isn't any other answer."
"Sorry, O'Toole," Blake said. "I should be willing to admit that Wade's our man. I don't know why I can't. It's just that blood is pretty thick stuff, I guess. It's hard to think your own brother would turn on you like this."
O'Toole lowered his head.
"We've got to do something," he said quietly. "Those guys won't sit out there waiting forever."
Blake stood up slowly.
"Supposing Wade isn't the chief," he asked. "What then?"
"They'll kill us all, just as they already plan to," O'Toole groaned. "We might as well take a flying chance."
Blake shook his head.
"I've got a better idea," he said.
"Then spill it. We haven't much time."
"To begin with," Blake said. "If Wade was in this he'd have shown up here long ago. The paper said he couldn't be located. I'd recognize my twin even in one of these outfits."
O'Toole protested.
"Then who is the chief?" He's here somewhere and Slater sure didn't intend to take orders from Harror."
"He must be on the train," Blake answered.
"Now you're crazy," O'Toole answered savagely. "The people on Mono 6 have been locked up for hours. If the leader of the Silver Masks was among them he'd have taken charge hours ago."
"Unless," Blake said thoughtfully, "he didn't want any of us to know he was the leader."
O'Toole pulled the mask down over his eyes.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "You've got something up your sleeve and I'll play the cards the way you want them."
"One more thing," Blake told him. "These men had to have a track to get Mono 6 into this cave. When it goes out again we'll be on the same track, but it will end in a canyon or deep lake."
"Go on."
"Well! We've got to get started on that trip. After we are out you and I will have to take our chances of stopping the mono."
"And I thought Grudge Harror was a tough baby," O'Toole grinned.
"I isn't a matter of being tough," Blake said. "Can you handle the engine room alone?"
"Handled it for years," O'Toole said coolly. "But I'd like to know where that track ends."
"You will." Blake went toward the door. He gripped O'Toole's shoulder. "You're a good Irishman, O'Toole. Now go out of here and straight to the cab. I don't think they'll dare send one of the other men. If the controls are tied into place, leave them alone. When I signal, set all motors going full speed. Sit tight and keep her flying."
"And the end of the track?" O'Toole asked. "If I don't get shot in the back before I'm half way across the cave, how do I know when to stop?"
