Dorothy Dixon Wins Her Wings

"Then how in thunder did they cop the license plates without your seeing them?" exploded Bill.

"Do shut up and let me talk!" Dorothy stamped her foot impatiently. "Now, Lizzie, what happened next?"

"Well, miss, I unlocked the doors and he started tinkerin' with the engine of the Packard there. Then all of a sudden he went out to the other car and spoke to somebody inside."

"What car was that?"

"The one he'd drove up in. It was parked out on the drive where the young gentleman has his'n now."

"Another Packard, was it?"

"I couldn't say, miss. I didn't pay much attention to it, except that it was a closed car-and there was a man and a woman in back."

Dorothy exchanged glances with Bill. "And then?"

"Then the young feller comes back and says as how the lady in the car was feeling sick, and could I fetch her a glass of water with a teaspoonful of bicarbonate of soda in it. I knew we had some in the medicine chest upstairs, so-"

"So you went back to the house and got it?"

"Yes, miss."

"And that's when they copped the plates!" declared Bill, the irrepressible.

"Bull's eye!" derided Dorothy. "How'd you guess it?"

"Form of genius some of us have."

Dorothy ignored this last and turned again to the maid. "What happened when you brought back the bicarb, Lizzie?"

"I give it to the young lady in the car, miss."

"Young, was she?"

"I couldn't get a good look at her face, for she was dabbin' her eyes with a handkerchief like she'd been cryin'. But she was dressed in some of those new-fangled pajamas like you wear to the beach, they was-sort of yellow-green color-and a wisp of her hair that had got loose from the bandanna she wore was red-the brightest red hair I ever see. She turned her head away when she drunk the medicine, but she thanked me prettily enough when she handed back the glass."

"Have you washed it yet?"

"No, miss. You see, I-"

"Then don't. I want that glass, just as it is. Was the lame man sitting beside her?"

"No. When I brought her the soda he was comin' out of the garage with the other fellow. He was carryin' a package wrapped in newspaper and he says as how he was takin' some part of the engine back to the shop. He spoke kind of funny, like a foreigner, I thought. And all dolled up in a light suit and a cane. Why, he'd even got lemon colored gloves on for all his lameness and the big boot he wore!"

"Did the girl and the other man wear gloves?"

"The man put them on when he started to tinker with the car, I remember. But the girl had no gloves on."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes, miss, because I noticed her shiny pink finger nails, particular. I thought at the time that washin' dishes couldn't be no part of her life."

"That's fine, Lizzie. You make a splendid witness."

"Thanks, miss. I got a good look at the lame man, too. He had a funny little black mustache like they wear in the movies and little gold knobs in his ears-what do think of that!" Lizzie paused dramatically as she gave this choice bit of information.

"Earrings?"

"Earrings, miss-and-"

"Thank you, Lizzie. You may go now."

"Remember those earrings, miss. And I'll keep the glass for you, and won't let cook touch it either, never fear!" Lizzie's slight figure faded into the darkness.

"So you've got pretty good descriptions of the gang and the lady's fingerprints!" Bill summed up. "I've got to hand it to you, kid. Reckon you'll have to let your father know about it though. Those fingerprints will have to be examined by the police."

Dorothy nodded. "Guess you're right. I'll tell him what we found out."

"What you've found out, you mean. As I think I told you before, when it comes to detective work, I'm a ground hog!"

"Nonsense! But that reminds me, Bill. Do I get a lesson tomorrow?"

"Do you think you can take time enough from your life work?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You may think I've finished fooling with this robbery when I turn over the dope to Daddy-but I haven't. I want a flying lesson, just the same, in the morning. Shall we go up in the Loening again?"

"No. I'll drive you down to the shore and we'll take the N-9 out. Don't wait for your father to-night. Tell him what you want to at breakfast."

"But I've got to-"

"This is your flight instructor speaking, Dorothy. No lesson in the morning for you, young lady, unless you go straight to bed now and get a good night's rest. A clear head and steady nerves are the first requisites for flying."

"All right then. I'll turn in directly. Good night."

Bill was already seated behind the wheel of his car. "Good night, Dorothy. By the way, I've got a hunch about this bank business. After you've had some flight training we'll investigate together-and the plane will be a great asset," he added mysteriously. His foot pressed the self-starter.

"Don't be so vague-spill the news like a good fellow."

"Sh-" mocked Bill. "'Sherlock Holmes is thinking!'" His laugh rang out and the car disappeared in the deep shadows of the drive.

"He's not so dumb as he pretends," mused Miss Dixon. "What can he have up his sleeve?"

Slowly she moved off toward the back door of the house.

Chapter VIII

NEXT MORNING

"You've done splendidly, my dear. I'm proud of you. This information you've dug up will be a lot of help in tracing that gang, I'm sure."