Linda Carlton's Ocean Flight

"But what shall we say to him?" asked Linda.

"I don't know," admitted Louise.

Impulsively as they had rushed into this plan, they realized that they hadn't an idea how to proceed.

"Suppose he won't see us!" remarked Louise.

"He probably won't. If we tell the secretary it is private business, she'll think we want to sell him life insurance, or something."

In that strange hotel room, as they sat looking blankly at each other, they knew that they had not thought far enough. Suddenly they were both tired and hungry.

"Let's don't do a thing this afternoon," suggested Louise. "Just call up Nancy Bancroft, and say we'll be out there right away. She's expecting us for dinner, anyhow."

Linda looked immensely relieved.

They found the girl's home without any difficulty, and were welcomed like old friends. Nancy was one of a large family, and the house fairly buzzed with gayety. There were three other guests besides themselves at dinner, and afterwards a dozen more came in for games and for dancing. It was informal and charming; both Linda and Louise would have liked nothing better than to accept Mrs. Bancroft's invitation to stay until school opened. But that would have meant relinquishing their plan, and this they would not do.

In an interval between dances, Louise drew her chum into the sitting-room where Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft were quietly reading, and asked the former to give them some help on a mystery they were trying to solve.

"Do you happen to know a man named J. W. Carwein – an importer and wholesale dealer in fine linens?" she inquired.

"Why, yes, I know the firm," replied Mr. Bancroft. "I don't know him personally. Why?"

"Well, we want to make an investigation – on the quiet, if possible," explained Louise. "We'd like to find out where and how he's getting hold of a certain kind of very fine lace-work. He's practically smashed Linda's father's business, and we're trying to discover how he did it."

"From his reputation, I don't believe Carwein goes in for underhand dealing like that. If he is, he probably has had one put over on him. He sells only the most expensive things, and his firm has always had a good name. He'd probably tell you right out where he buys the goods."

"But how could we see him?" asked Linda. "Girls can't walk right into an office and demand to see the president!"

Mr. Bancroft smiled.

"It's been done," he said. "But I don't think it's necessary. I believe you can get the information you want from his secretary. It isn't likely he'd have anything to hide."

Just as simple as that! The girls could hardly believe it was possible, yet next morning, when they put the advice into effect, they found it good.

The secretary informed them that the goods were _not_ imported, that they were made right here in New York state. An agent by the name of Hofstatter had come into the firm's offices and sold them, assuring Mr. Carwein that they were made by a group of French women in the extreme northern part, near the town of Plattsburg. He said he was a traveling man, and that he would return in three months' time for more orders.

When Louise had repeated this conversation to Linda, they sat looking at each other in despair.

"I'm afraid our trip's been in vain," moaned Louise. "Somebody is imitating the work – somebody right here in New York. Of course they can afford to sell it cheaper than your father – with no tax to pay!"

Linda's eyes narrowed. She was not convinced.

"There's something fishy about the whole thing!" she said. "Because if this man Hofstatter didn't buy from the Convent, who did? They had nothing left to sell to Daddy!"

"Maybe he lied to Carwein!" exclaimed Louise. "Anybody can see that my handkerchief is exactly like yours."

"Yes! I think this man Hofstatter has smuggled the stuff into the country, avoiding the tax. That's what I believe!"

Louise jumped up energetically. "Now our job is to trap Hofstatter!"

"You mean to try to find him in Plattsburg?"

"I don't believe he's there – Or any lace-makers, either. We might stop and find out – and then go on to Montreal – to the Convent – and try to catch him, or find out something about him there."

"He probably won't be back for a good while, if he has just bought out the supply," remarked Linda, gloomily.

"True," admitted Louise. "But let's fly to Plattsburg anyhow, and investigate. We've gotten along O.K. here in New York. If we can only do as well there!"

"Well, it's only December twenty-seventh. We have plenty of time before school starts again."

"Now to send Ted a night-letter!" Louise reminded her chum. "New York to Plattsburg – Plattsburg to Montreal – Montreal to the Convent, with the time figured as closely as possible, and a telegram to him each night if we are safe."

"Righto! We'll stay all night at Plattsburg tonight. And we ought to be at the Convent tomorrow – December twenty-eighth."

Chapter VIII

Eavesdropping

When Linda and Louise came downstairs in their flying suits, ready to start for Plattsburg, they saw it was snowing. Mrs. Bancroft, entering the living-room with a thermos bottle of coffee, immediately assumed that they would stay with her for another day.

"You girls have never flown in a snowstorm, have you?" she asked.

"No, but we have to begin sometime, Mrs. Bancroft," replied Linda, cheerfully. She was anxious to be off; the flight promised to be a wonderful adventure.

"I don't see any reason why you should ever have to fly in bad weather," remarked the older woman. "There are so many beautiful days."

"But when we are commercial pilots, we'll have to," Linda explained. "So we might as well get used to it."

"You don't mean that you expect to take a regular paid position in aviation after you graduate, do you?" she demanded, in amazement.

"Yes. Rather!"

"You young girls certainly are marvelous! I suppose you'll put the idea into Nancy's head too… Well, if there's no use urging you to stay, I think you had better make your start. You don't want to risk flying after dark."

"Linda's even done that," boasted Louise.

Hearing the taxi, which was to take them to the airport, they bade a hasty farewell and departed.

"You're not afraid, are you, Linda?" inquired Louise, as they sped across New York City.

"Not a bit! Only I wish we had as good directions for finding Plattsburg as Ted gave us to follow coming here. It makes it so much easier."

"Maybe we'll find a letter or a wire at the airport," surmised Louise.

What they found, however, was far better than either. Standing beside the Arrow, which had been pushed out in readiness for the flight, was Ted Mackay himself, grinning as usual.

"How do you happen to be here, Ted?" cried Louise, as she jumped out of the taxi.