Dorothy Dixon Solves the Conway Case

“Likewise me,” declaimed Terry. “I must have my coffee.”

“Table’s set,” announced Betty, popping in to the kitchen, closely followed by George.

“Eggs are finished and the bacon’s fried,” returned Dorothy. “How about the coffee, Bill?”

“Perfect – though I sez so.”

“And the toast!” Terry was busy buttering the last slice. “You know, lovers used to write sonnets on their lady’s eyebrows – now, if they’d seen this toast!”

Dorothy shook her head at him. “That will be about all from you. Come along, all of you – everything smells so good, and I’m simply ravenous.”

It was a merry party that gathered about the old mahogany dining table. Bill began by teasing Dorothy about her lack of foresight that sent her up on a flight without enough gas. She returned his banter with interest: the others joined in and for a time everybody was wisecracking back and forth.

George was the first to bring the conversation back to current events.

“I don’t know Mr. Lewis very well,” he replied in answer to a question of Betty’s. “He was a friend of my father’s – at least father had business dealings with him. I thought I’d never get rid of the old boy tonight.”

“Did you find the book he wanted?” asked Dorothy. “Jones’ Aircraft Power Plants, wasn’t it?”

“Some book, too!” affirmed Bill. “Have you read it, Conway?”

“Didn’t know I owned it. The book – in fact, the whole library, was my father’s. About all he saved from the wreck. When I couldn’t find the book for old Lewis, what do you think he said?”

“‘Listen!’” Dorothy’s voice mimicked perfectly the old gentleman’s querulous tones. Everyone burst into laughter.

“Yes, he said that,” George told her, “and a whole lot more.”

“I hate riddles,” cried Betty. “Do tell us – ”

“Why, he wanted to buy the entire library – and when I turned him down, he made me an offer on the house providing entire contents went with it!”

Betty laughed. “A good low price, I’ll bet. Mr. Lewis is a terrible old skinflint.”

“I thought so, too, until he made me this offer.”

“Do you mind saying how much?” Dorothy never hesitated to come to the point.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars!”

“Seems like a lot of money to me!” was Bill’s comment.

“A lot of money! I should say so.” George cried excitedly. “Why, this place isn’t worth more than eight – possibly ten thousand dollars at the outside.”

“I smell a rat,” said Terry, “or to put it more politely, the old boy’s offer has something doggoned stinking crooked mixed up in it.”

“To add to our cultured brother’s oratory,” said Bill, “There certainly seems to be something pretty darned putrid in the kingdom of Denmark!”

“A whole lot nearer home, if you ask me,” broke in Dorothy. – “That old man – ”

“Just a moment,” begged Bill. “Your deductions, Miss Dixon, are always noteworthy. In fact, at times, the press of our glorious country has frequently referred to you as Miss Sherlock Holmes, but – ”