Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane

“Who are you?” he asked again and this time in a firmer voice.

“It’s Dorothy, your pardner!”

“Dorothy? Thank Heaven for that.” He caught at her hand and squeezed it. “We’re in the tunnel, aren’t we?”

“Yes – where it widens out into a kind of room.”

“I remember now – that guy slugged me when I was making for the candle on the table over there.”

“Who slugged you? The bearded aviator?”

“That’s right. I was coming along, lighting matches to see by when he stepped from behind one of the uprights – and that’s all I remember. Knocked me out, I guess.”

“He certainly did! You’ve a bump on your head like an egg. The helmet probably saved your life. Feel pretty rotten, don’t you?”

“You said it! Dizzy as blazes – and my head’s as sore as a boil. But I guess I’ll be all right in a minute if I can just lie still. Do you mind?”

“Of course not, silly. Take your time. I suppose you followed the footprints to the barrel, like I did.”

“Yep. But how come you went after me?” he chuckled. “I thought the idea was to beat it home in the plane.”

“Oh, Bill, I just couldn’t!”

Bill sat up. “Well, I suppose I was crazy to ever think you would – but I honestly didn’t think I’d get into such close quarters with that fellow. As it is, I’m mighty glad you didn’t take my fool suggestion,” he admitted. “Where would I be now, if you hadn’t shown up? By the taste in my mouth and the feel of my wrists, that galoot must have tied me up and gagged me!”

“He did that. You were bound to an upright. Have you any idea where this tunnel comes out?”

“Ten dollars to counterfeit two-cent piece, your Castle is the answer to that question,” he said, and lit a match. “Oh, there’s the table, Dorothy. Do you mind lighting that candle? I’m too dizzy to stand up yet or – ”

He stopped short and Dorothy saw his eyes widen in startled surprise.

“Look out!” he yelled and the match went out.

Dorothy felt a hand grip the back of her neck and immediately afterward its fellow clutched her throat. In a fierce frenzy of terror, she shot to her feet, gasping and choking and flinging her arms wildly backwards as she rose.

Chapter XVII

“THE TOMBS”

Dorothy’s vigorous motion forced her assailant to relax his grip upon her throat, and as she felt his weight upon her shoulders, she lunged down and backward. There was a dull, cracking thud, and the sound of a body falling. The back of her head struck one of the timbers that supported the ceiling of the tunnel. The place seemed to whirl round and round and glittering sparks danced before her eyes. When this sensation ceased, Dorothy leaned back against the post into which she had flung herself in her apparently successful effort to shake off her opponent.

With the realization that the attack had halted and that her assailant had either made his escape or was incapacitated, she fumbled in her pocket for a match.

“Where are you, Dorothy?” Bill’s voice called from the dark void.

“Right here, old thing – by the wall.”

She struck a light.

“All right?”

He looked pale and shaken in the flicker of the tiny flame. She saw that he grasped the crowbar.

“A bit woozy,” she replied, and lit the candle on the table. “Cracked my head on a beam or something.”

“That bearded guy didn’t hurt you?”

“He didn’t get a chance. Which way do you think he went?”

Bill laughed softly. “You put him out of business. Look!”

He pointed toward an upright and Dorothy saw a crumpled figure lying huddled at the base of the post.

“Goodness! You don’t think I’ve finished him?” she breathed in horrified alarm.

“No such luck,” he affirmed callously and bent over the man’s body. “Sit down until you feel better. This chap is only stunned. I’ll take care of him.”

Dorothy stumbled over to the table. Near-by was a chair. She dropped into it.

“He bumped his skull on this post,” Bill went on. “No great damage, I guess. Funny – whenever there’s a rough-house in the dark, somebody invariably gets a broken head. The three of us are even now.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Her dizziness was passing.

“Oh, I’ll give him as good as he gave me, and lash him to this upright.”

He busied himself tying up the unconscious smuggler. When he had finished, he looked up and beckoned to Dorothy.

“Come over here. He’s plenty secure now. This rope held me, I guess it’ll hold him.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Find out who this chap really is.”

His fingers peeled off the false beard and Dorothy cried out in astonishment.

“Mr. Tracey!” she gasped.

“It’s Tracey, all right!”

“But who’d have thought that sleek pussy cat was mixed up in this? Aren’t you surprised, Bill?”

“Not very. When his car had the breakdown this morning I began to suspect. The whole thing was too darn opportune. He was part of their system of watchers, of course. Probably wanted to find out how we’d taken their warning.”

“But surely Mr. Holloway can have nothing to do with it! He’s such a sweet old man.”

Billy transferred two revolvers from Tracey’s belt to his own.

“If you want my candid opinion,” he said, “Old Holloway is the leader and brains of the gang. Only it’s going to be the dickens and all to prove it in a court of law.”