crew outside?”
“Plugged ’em – clean. Got a bead on them through a front window.”
“What? You – killed them? Buckshot, at that distance?”
George chuckled. “Not buckshot – rock salt. Use it for crows, you know. It stings like the dickens.”
“I’ll bet it does!” Dorothy’s laugh was full-throated and hearty.
“What’s become of them?” she asked when she could speak.
“They beat it around the house to the garage. Do you know what happened to their car?”
“Yes. It ran away – down the lots to the bottom of the valley. And between you and me and the hatrack, I don’t think it will ever run any more.”
“Gee whiz!” chuckled George. “Who’d ever think a little thing like Betty would have the pluck to pull a stunt like that!”
“Who would?” said Dorothy and joined in the laugh.
“Well, as long as their car is out of the running, they’ll probably try to steal my flivver.” George tapped his gun significantly, “But I’ll put a crimp in that. They’ve got to pass the dining room windows to get out of here.”
“You needn’t bother – the Ford won’t move.”
“Sure it will.” George stopped short in the doorway and turned toward her. “That car of mine runs like a watch.”
“But not without gas,” explained Dorothy. “I drained the tank into a couple of tins.”
“You did?”
“Sure thing. Parked the tins in your orchard. They’ll never find ’em.”
“Say!” exclaimed George. “You must be almost as good as Betty that is, I mean – ”
“Who’s taking my name in vain?” Miss Mayo was tripping blithely downstairs. “You two seem to be finding a lot to talk about.”
George stared at her. “Say, you certainly look swell when you’re dolled up.”
“Well, it’s the best I can do now,” deprecated Betty. “I borrowed a pair of your slippers though – woolly ones. That is, I s’pose they’re yours?”
“Glad to have you wear ’em.” George’s eyes were still glued to Betty’s pretty face when Dorothy broke in.
“Look here, we’ll have to get down to business. George – listen to me. Betty won’t melt, you know – ”
“Oh, I think you’re terrible – ” interrupted Betty.
Her friend paid no attention, but kept on talking to George. “Do you really think they’ve gone?”
He nodded. “I’m pretty sure they have – that is, for the present. You can’t do a whole lot when your hide is full of salt. I’ll bet they’re kiting down the road right now. Maybe they’ll stop in at the Robinson’s or somewhere and get a lift to Stamford or Ridgefield or wherever they came from. They may have some pals about here, of course. I sort of gathered that they weren’t working on their own – that there was somebody in back of them.”
“Well, at least we can count on a breather. Let’s go in the library and turn on the light. I’m tired of standing about in this hall and I want to dry out by the fire.”
In the library, George pushed a couple of easy chairs before the comforting blaze. Dorothy cast aside her slicker and helmet and dropped into one of them. She kicked off her sodden shoes and stretching her legs toward the warmth, drew forth a comb and proceeded to make herself neat. George perched on the arm of Betty’s chair, and the two stared at the flames without speaking.
At last Dorothy put her comb away, turned to George and broke the silence.
“It’s none of my particular business, of course, but would you mind telling me the reason for all this rough house? Why did those men attack you and tie you up – what were they doing around here?”
George shook his head slowly. “Hanged if I know,” he said.
“You don’t know? But they seemed to be asking you questions – from what I could see through the window, it looked that way.”
“That’s right. But – but – well, you two girls are real sportsmen. You’ve pulled me out of an awful mess. Heaven knows I appreciate what you’ve done, but I just can’t have you running any further risk on my account, Miss – ”
“Dixon,” supplied Betty. “I forgot you hadn’t been introduced.”
George leaned forward. “Do you come from New Canaan?” he shot out.
“Of course, we live there,” said Betty. “And I want you to know that Dorothy is my best friend. We’re seniors at the New Canaan High – if that interests you.”
“So you’re Dorothy Dixon, the flyer!” he exploded. “Suffering monkeys! I didn’t know I was entertaining a celebrity. Why, you’re the girl I was talking about – who – ”
“Here, here – don’t make me blush,” laughed Dorothy.
“But don’t you see? Your being Dorothy Dixon makes all the difference in the world.”
Dorothy’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown.
“I don’t get you,” she said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why, if what the newspapers say is true, you simply eat up this gangster stuff – a whiz at solving all kinds of mysteries.”
“Nice lady-like reputation, what?” she mocked.
“Well, that’s all right with me. Because now – I have no hesitancy in telling you all I know about this queer business. You’ll probably know just what to do – and you’ll be a wonderful help.”
“How about me?” Betty was a direct little person and seemed at no pains to disguise her feelings. “I don’t think you’re a bit polite, George!”
“Oh, I feel differently about you – ” stammered that young man, then stopped short and looked painfully embarrassed.
Dorothy thought it time she took matters into her own hands.
“Don’t be silly, Betty, George knows how clever you are!” She flashed a mischievous glance at her friend, then went on in a serious tone. “And of course we’re keen to hear all about it, George, and we’ll do anything we can to help you. But your story will keep a while longer. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning such a prosaic thing – but do you happen to have anything to eat in the house?”
“Oh, my gosh! Of course I have – ” he threw a glance at the clock and jumped to his feet. “It’s nearly eight o’clock. You girls must be starved! Sit right here and I’ll bring supper in a jiffy. I was just about to eat mine when those two thugs dropped in and put an end to it for the time being.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Betty, hopping out of her chair.
“That’s a good plan,” decreed Dorothy. “While you’re starting things in the kitchen, I’d like to use the phone, if I may.”
“There it is, on that table in the corner,” said George. “Hop to it. I’ll drive you home later in the flivver.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to have gas for my plane. We’ll talk it over at supper, shall we?”
She took up the telephone and the others hurried from the room.
Presently she joined them in the kitchen.
“I called up your mother, Betty, and told her you were spending the night with me,” she announced. “Dad is away, so I got hold of Bill Bolton and he’ll be over here in about twenty minutes.”
“Oh, fine – ” began Betty and stopped short as an electric bell on the wall buzzed sharply.
For