Murder Trail

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HEINRICH VON WERNDORFF, captain of the Munchen, was seated at the tiny desk in his cabin aboard the mammoth dirigible. The big airship was resting in its hangar at Friedrichshafen. From the window of the cabin, the captain could see the gloomy ground below, where occasional workmen passed back and forth. This was the night before the air liner’s scheduled voyage.

Captain von Werndorff was nervous. That was quite unusual. A veteran of numerous transatlantic flights, now commander of the newest and most airworthy dirigible that had ever been constructed, there was no apparent reason for Von Werndorff to be apprehensive.

Nevertheless, the captain’s heavy-jowled face wore a serious expression that indicated anxiety.

A rap at the door of the cabin. Von Werndorff swung in his chair. In a low, guttural tone, he ordered the visitor to come in. A young man, trim in uniform, entered and saluted with military procedure. This was Lieutenant Fritz von Salzburg, second in command aboard the Munchen.

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