 If you enjoy the romance and thrill of flying the airmail, you will enjoy following the story which we unfold for you now. During the past few weeks, trans-American airlines have been losing their latest high-speed airmail planes under very mysterious circumstances. Miss Irene Delroy and Sergeant Fitzgerald have been detailed by the Department of Justice to discover the identity of parties responsible for the wrecking and robbing of the mail planes. Jimmy Gifford, roving newspaper reporter, is assisting Miss Delroy and Fitzgerald. They feel they are about to apprehend the guilty party when a fourth ship is robbed, and the pilot, Andy Andrews, is found dead at the controls. Investigation discloses that Andrews has been shot at close quarters, and as the trio are concluding investigation of his death, a strange airplane roars by overhead. It's the Otto Gyro, ma'am. That's the way the mail thieves get out of this canyon? A windmill plane. Right, you are, Sergeant. There's your answer, Miss Delroy. Whoever killed Andrews and robbed this plane used the Otto Gyro to get out of the canyon. Not so loud, Jimmy. We don't want powers to know Andrews had been killed. Did you get the numbers on that ship, Fitzgerald? No, ma'am. There was no numbers on it. Guess they'd been painted out. But that's the ship we're after, all right. We haven't a ghost of a chance to find it now. Well, they can set that plane down in any one of these canyons. Cover it up with some brash in order to take an aerial bird dog to find it. I'm afraid you're right, Jimmy. But we're not going to let that stop us. Right now, Sergeant, let's get Mr. Powers and start back for Metropolitan Airport. Yes, ma'am. I have a few telephone calls I want to make. There's nothing else to do here. Powers is waiting in his car over on the road. He looks worried, ma'am. You know, somehow I don't trust that fellow Powers. He's too cool, too crafty. There's something in that man that I can't read. Yeah? Well, you're a reporter, Gifford. Not a detective. Powers didn't have nothing to do with these crashes. His job is to make that airplane company pay, and he can't do it by cracking ships up. Just the same, Sergeant. He bears watching. Yeah, well, you can watch Powers. I'm going out after that phony ranger that took those operation schedules and that dummy Magneto from us. Well, get him if it's the last thing I... Yes, ma'am. I want to get back to Metropolitan as soon as possible. Yes, ma'am. Powers' car is right over this way. Metropolitan Air Force. No, Mr. Powers isn't in. He's expected back shortly. Yes, sir, I'll tell him you've called. Metropolitan? No, sir. We haven't located 655 yet. No, Mr. Powers isn't in. I'm sorry. I don't know, sir. Oh, Mr. Powers, I'm so glad you're back. There have been so many calls for you. I told him I didn't know anything about Andy's ship yet. Good. We've just come back from the canyon. The ship is a total loss. Andrew is missing. Missing? You mean it? I don't know anything yet, Maisie. Come in, Miss Delroy and Sergeant. Open the door to my office, Gephard. We'll go in there. Right. Oh, I suppose the newspapers are after me. Yes, sir. They've all been calling. 655 is eight hours overdue in Plainsview, and they want to know what's wrong. Well, keep in guessing. We don't know anything ourselves, and I'll be hanged if I want a gang of reporters snooping around. One is bad enough. Thanks, Powers. We'll be in my office in case the directors call. I'm out to everyone else. Yes, sir. There's a private telephone in my desk there, Miss Delroy. Thank you, Mr. Powers. Get the telegraph over, sis. Yes, sir. Take a few notes, will you, Jimmy? Right. Trans-American has lost four valuable mail shipments. All four Plains were lost in Devil's Canyon. Here's the telegraph over, ma'am. Good. Get Roberts the radio man in here, Fitz. Yes, ma'am. Hello? Take a message. Department of Commerce, Aeronautics Division, Washington, D.C. Ready? Here it is. Wire immediately, names and addresses of all purchasers and licensees of auto gyros in western part of United States. Signed Delroy, Department of Justice. That's the stuff, Irene. That'll give us something to work from at least. Wait a minute, Jimmy. Hold the wire a moment, will you? If you'll pardon me, Miss Delroy, I'll just... Just a second, Mr. Powers. You'll probably be interested in this next telegraph. One more, please. Ready? Postmaster General, Post Office Department, Washington, recommend all existing airmail contracts with trans-American airlines incorporated be suspended, pending investigation of inability to maintain schedules. Signed Delroy, Department of Justice. Wait a minute. You can't do that. You can't send that telegram. It's sent, Powers. You can't do that. Do you want to ruin the company? Sorry, Mr. Powers. Until this matter of looting the United States mail is cleared up, this department recommends a suspension of all airmail flying on your line. But, Miss Delroy, just because we've had a little trouble... We've had more than a little trouble, Powers. We've had far too much trouble. Now, sit down. I want some information from you. You've no right to suggest that our contract be suspended. Sorry, Powers. It's already suggested. And I rather expect it'll be official before morning. If it is, I'll carry it to the Supreme Court if necessary. That's up to you. Right now, I want some information. Sit down, please. All right. But you're ruining trans-American airlines. And if these crashes keep up, we'll ruin the public confidence in aviation. Take some more notes on this, Jimmy. Shoot, Irene. Devil's Canyon is 90 miles from Metropolitan. How fast are these fat nails' cruise powers? About 180 miles an hour. Mm-hmm. 30 minutes flying time to the canyon. The eastbound left with Andrews in charge at 10.29. Is that right? Yes. At 11 o'clock, he was over the canyon. Is that right? He's on schedule, yes. Jimmy, what time did we leave to solve flats for Devil's Canyon? 11 o'clock, Irene. And we arrived at the canyon just 45 minutes later, huh? Right. 11.45. How long have we been at the scene of the crash, Jimmy, when Mr. Powers arrived? Why, not over 15 minutes at the most. That would make you arrive at approximately 12 o'clock. Correct, Mr. Powers? Uh, I believe it was 12 o'clock, yes. And you say you started for the canyon when you heard Andrews report motor trouble? Yes, naturally. I was worried. I knew of the money shipper. Will you tell me, Mr. Powers, how you drove more than 90 miles of mountain road in your car in an hour's time? Uh, why... Do you mean to tell me that you drove that road at 90 miles an hour? No, uh... To arrive at Devil's Canyon at midnight, Mr. Powers, you had to leave here before Andrews' ship took off, didn't you? No, I didn't. I... I want the truth from you, Powers. You left before Andrews took off or at about the same time, didn't you? Well, yes. What about it? You were driving along the road at 11. You didn't hear Andrews' radio for help, did you? Well, no. I want the truth now. What made you drive to Devil's Canyon tonight? I, uh... You've been beating around the bush long enough, Powers. You either make a satisfactory answer to my question, Arla, or do your arrest. My arrest? For what? On suspicion of violating postal regulations. You mean you believe I had a hand on those mail robberies? You can't mean that, Mr. Roy. Oh, yes, I can. We're not overlooking a single thing in this case. We've arrived at Devil's Canyon altogether too soon to have left after Andrews' radio for help. I want to know what made you take that drive. Hmm. You can't bluff me, Mr. Delroy. You know that I didn't have anything to do with that robbery? Care yourself for a shock, Mr. Powers. Robbery is no longer the main issue in this case. No? Then, uh, what is it? Murder, Mr. Powers. Cool, deliberate murder. What? You heard me. Andrews wasn't knowing that Andrews was murdered not five minutes after he landed the ship in the canyon. I can't believe it. I know you thought it was a crash, but it wasn't. Andrews made a safe landing. He was sitting in the cockpit dead when we found him. But the ship was burned. A time bomb set fire to the ship a few minutes after he reached it. But not before we made a few discoveries. Well, what discoveries? There was a time clock in the ignition circuit of that plane. Someone knew that Andrews would be right over that spot at 11. When the clock clicked, the ignition was cut off. I want you to tell me why you left for the canyon as soon as Andrews took off. Aren't you a little hasty in accusing me of complicity in this crime as Delroy? After all, I'm as anxious as you are to see the things told and the guilty parties convicted. I'm paid to run this airline at the record. You're evading the question, Powers. Why did you leave Metropolitan for Devil's Canyon as soon as Andrews took off? Because I figured he'd run into trouble, that's all. You must have had some reason for that assumption. I did. What was it? I told you I was interested in solving this case as you are, Miss Delroy. Yes. Well, I am. I'm even more interested. I've spent five years in building trans-American from a barnstorming organization into one of the nation's greatest airlines. And I'm not going to let a band of male thieves wreck my ideals. I've been doing a bit of investigating of my own. Indeed. Whether you believe me or not, I've progressed further into this mystery than you have. I at least have evidence that the work is being planned if not actually executed by an employee of this company. Andrews, what made you ask that? Oh, I don't know. Just trying to frame a story for you. Andrews is dead, you know. You could tack the crime on him. And what you think makes no difference to me, Giverd. To whom do you refer, Powers? I have reason to believe that our radio man, Roberts, is an active touch with whoever is wrecking our ships. Roberts? What makes you think that? Several things, Miss Delroy. First, Roberts was found in my office when the operation schedules were stolen. Yes? Second, Roberts came up and under the influence of that gas all too suddenly. Oh. Then I found a key to my private office on Roberts' key ring. Where's Roberts now? He sent the sergeant for it when we first came in, Irene. Oh, yes. You neglected to answer my question, however, Powers. I still want to know why you drove to Devil's Canyon. If you must know, I was following someone. Who, Roberts? No. A man I saw Roberts speaking with tonight. Roberts gave him a message. What sort of a message? A typewritten message on one of our telegraph blanks. Did you see this message? No, but I read the impression of the typewriter keys on the sheet of paper that was beneath it. It was quite legible. Do you remember the content? Yes. It said, 655 will be over the canyon at 11. No signature? No. Then how do you know Roberts wrote it? I saw him. Saw him write it. Put it in an envelope and hand it to the man. You followed his man to the canyon? I tried to, but, unfortunately, I lost him. We're going to check up on your story, Powers. We're going to face Roberts with these facts and ask for an explanation. Mr. Elroy, quick. What is it, Fitz? I found him, ma'am. But he's dead. Looks like he killed himself with this gun. Who, Fitz? Roberts, the radio operator.