Last month two gentlemen in natty dinner clothes were seen to scuttle out of the Pulitzer Building in Park Row, Manhattan. An automobile whisked them to the Battery, where they plumped into a Coast Guard Patrol cutter and vanished down murky New York Harbor chasing the fleet S. S. Aquitania, eastbound. . . . Last week, tired, grimy, grinning, the same two men returned to the Pulitzer Building in brown canvas flying suits, crouching in automobiles outridden by staccato police motorcycles.
They shook hands with Explorer Vilhjálmur Stefansson, who pressed a stopwatch...
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