Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane

“I know – but whose property are we on?”

“Haven’t the least idea.”

“I can’t see any houses around here. Did you notice any as you came down?”

Dorothy shook her head and laughed.

“My eyes were glued on this field,” she admitted. “I was too busy trying to make a landing myself to take in much of the landscape. Wait a minute, though – seems to me I caught a glimpse of the Castle just before I put Wispy into that reverse control turn. Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“The Castle?” Bill frowned. “What in the cock-eyed world is that?”

“A castle, silly!”

“Make sense out of that, please.”

“Sorry. You’re usually trying to mystify me – I just thought I’d turn the tables for a change.”

“Oh, I know – I’ll say I’m sorry or anything else you want. Only please tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Well, it seems that about fifteen or sixteen years ago, somebody built a castle about two or three miles from North Stamford village. It’s less than five miles from where we live. Not being up on medieval architecture I can’t describe it properly, but Dad says it is the kind that German robber barons put up in the fourteenth century. Anyway, the Castle is built of stone with a steep, slate roof, which spouts pointed turrets all over the place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been built by a German – it certainly looks as Heinie as sauerkraut!”

“Who lives there?” asked Bill.

“Nobody, now. During the war, Dad told me, the place was suspected to be a spy-hang-out or something like that. Anyway, there was a lot of talk about it. What became of the owner, whoever he is, I don’t know. The place has been rented several times during the past few years. It is quite near the road. I drove past it just the other day on my way to and from Nance Wilkins’ tea and the old dump looked quite empty and forlorn.”

“Well, that’s that,” said Bill. “This bearded guy may have been heading for your Castle, but I doubt it. Fact is, he probably decided to land at the first convenient place when he found we were too much for him, and decided to trust to his legs for a getaway.”

Dorothy had been swinging her helmet by its chin strap in an absent-minded manner. Now she raised her eyes to his.

“What are we going to do about it?” she inquired. “We can’t try to break into the Castle in broad daylight.”

“Hardly. And after our experience with the bank gang, we’ll do no more snooping around strange houses on our own. I am going over to that little wood where our friend ran to cover. Maybe I can find some trace of him. You stay here with the planes.”

“Why can’t I go with you, Bill?”

“Because that smuggler may simply be hiding in the woods in hopes that we’ll come after him and that we’ll leave these airbuses unguarded. Then when we’re gone, he’ll come back here, grab one of them and fly quietly home.”

“All right. I see.”

“Have you got a gun?”

“That small Colt you gave me is in Wispy’s cockpit.”

“Get it and keep it on you – and if that guy shows up, don’t be afraid to use it.”

Dorothy shook her head. “I never shot at anybody in my life – ”

“Don’t shoot at him —shoot him. You might have to, you know.”

“But surely, Bill – ”

“Oh, I don’t mean for you to kill the guy. Plunk him in the leg – disable him. If you have any qualms about it, just remember that machine gun in his bus here. The man is as deadly as a copperhead and twice as treacherous. Look out for him.”

“I will. But su-suppose you get into trouble, Bill. How long do you want me to wait here before I come after you?”

“My dear girl,” Bill was becoming impatient. “I’m just going to try to find out where that lad is headed. I won’t be gone more than ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Yes. But suppose you don’t come back here!”

“Wait for half an hour. Then fly back home and tell Dad what has happened. He’ll know what to do. Don’t get nervous – I’ll be all right. So long. See you in a few minutes.”

With a wave of his hand, he ran across the field and Dorothy saw him hurdle the low wall and disappear between the trees of the wood where the bearded aviator had run to cover.

Chapter XVI

THE TUNNEL

Dorothy walked slowly back to Will-o’-the-Wisp and climbed into the cockpit. From the pilot’s seat she had an unobstructed view of the field and the two other airplanes. Overhead, fluffy wind clouds began to appear from out of the northwest. Near the stone wall, three small rabbits sported in the sunshine; and presently a groundhog waddled across the field.

She glanced at her watch. The hands marked five past five. Bill had been gone twenty minutes.

“And he told me not to get nervous,” she thought indignantly. “This waiting around is enough to set anybody off – I’ll give him just ten minutes more!”

Dorothy counted those ten minutes quite the longest she had ever experienced. Fifteen minutes past five and still no Bill. He had told her to wait half an hour and then to fly home for help! But she was not the sort of girl who permits herself to be quietly wiped off the picture by an order from a boy friend! She just wasn’t made that way. Bill might be worried about the safety of the planes; it was his safety that worried her.

Determinedly she transferred the small revolver from its holster to a pocket of the jodhpurs she was wearing. Should she pack a flash light, too? No need of that, she decided. Figuring on daylight saving time, it wouldn’t be dark until after eight o’clock. Without more ado, she got out of the plane and crossed the field toward the wood.

After she had climbed the wall at the spot where she had seen Bill disappear on the trail of the bearded aviator, she came upon a path. Narrow it was, and overgrown, yet certainly a path, leading through the trees at a diagonal from the stone fence. Without hesitation, Dorothy followed it.

She was soon certain that her idea of the wood from the air was correct, and that it covered no great acreage. Hurrying along the winding footpath, she began to catch glimpses of blue sky between the tree trunks, and less than three hundred yards from the wall she came into the open.

The trees ended at the edge of a broad gully, apparently the bed of a shallow stream in the spring or after a shower; but now, except for a puddle or two, it was dry. On the farther side, cows were grazing in a meadow.

“Nice pastoral landscape,” she said aloud. “Doesn’t look like much of a spot for mischief – ”

In spite of her bravado, Dorothy felt a lump in her throat. If Bill were missing, too, and she could not find him…

The pasture sloped gently upward over a hill, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. And on the horizon above the hilltop, the Castle reared its pointed turrets skyward. For a little while she watched the huge, grey pile of stone, whose narrow leaded windows reflecting the late afternoon sun, winked at her with many mocking eyes. What a dreary-looking place it was, she thought. Ugly and forbidding, it was entirely out of place in this New England countryside. The Castle seemed utterly deserted. It probably was. At least the path ended at the gully; there was no sign of it across the meadow.

Where was the bearded aviator – and above all, where was Bill?

“Bill distinctly said he would not snoop around the Castle,” she thought. “I wonder if he really came this far?”

So eager had she been to reach the edge of the wood that she had paid very little attention to the ground she was covering. As this new thought struck her, she turned and gazed back over the way she had come. There were her own footprints clearly defined in the damp earth – but there was no sign that either Bill or the smuggler had passed that way.

Back along the path she trudged, walking slowly this time.

“I’m a pretty poor woodsman,” she told herself. “They must have turned off somewhere.”