“Hardly that. But they do make it look as though this disappearing business is pretty serious – ”
Dorothy interrupted him eagerly: “Then there isn’t any doubt in your mind but that our experience at the club this afternoon is accountable for Terry’s disappearance, and my holdup?”
Mr. Dixon, who was filling his pipe, struck a match and puffed contemplatively.
“We can’t jump at conclusions, my dear. My first idea about that plane may be the right one. On the other hand, this business tonight certainly forces one’s suspicions. If Terry doesn’t show up by morning, we’ll turn the matter over to the police and start a thorough search. But I do think it wise to keep the story of the amphibian and its pilot to ourselves.”
Dorothy nodded. “You mean that if we spread our suspicions to the police, they’d let the cat out of the bag and the man would be on his guard?”
“That’s just it. And then you must remember that we really have no facts to go on as yet.”
“Well, I think I’ll go to bed,” yawned Dorothy. “Do you mind if I try to trail that plane with my own?”
“Not if you’ll promise to be careful, dear. In fact, I think it’s a good idea. But one thing I must insist upon and that is – you’re to keep me posted. No more of this taking things into your own hands, as you did with the Martinellis. It’s too dangerous. Confide in your old Dad, girl, and we’ll do a lot better.”
Dorothy was half way across the room, but here she turned and ran back to her father and kissed him. “Of course I’ll tell you everything. Isn’t it too bad, though, that Bill Bolton is away? He’d have been a wonderful help. Have you any idea what he is doing?”
“All I know is what his father told me – that he’s off on some government job. It may be Secret Service work, again. Anyway, he’s to be away indefinitely, I understand. Now, just one thing more.”
“Oh, Daddy! More instructions to take care of myself?”
Mr. Dixon laughed at her outraged expression, and relit his pipe.
“Not exactly – you seem to have the luck to generally land on your feet. But, I want you to consider this: if the bearded aviator or his associates are behind Terry’s disappearance, they kidnapped him because they thought he would recognize the man. And they tried to do the same thing to you tonight.”
“Why on earth should they fear being recognized?”
“Haven’t the slightest idea. It depends on what they’re up to. There must be a strong motive behind it. You don’t strike a match unless you want a light. But unless we’re chasing moonbeams, something illegal is going on and if there is a hunt for Terry tomorrow, I don’t want you to take part in it.”
“You think they’ll try to get me again?”
“It is highly possible.” Her father got to his feet and put his hands on her shoulders. “So promise me you won’t go running about country byroads in your car, even during daylight hours. If you must go out at night, either I or Arthur must be in the car with you.” (Arthur was the Dixons’ chauffeur-gardener.) “There’s no use trying to pretend I’m not worried about this mysterious business. Be a good girl and don’t make it harder for me, please.”
“I’ll be good, Daddy. If I find out anything tomorrow, I’ll report at dinner.”
“That’s my girl,” he beamed, and kissed her good night. “I shall nose about, myself, a bit. I’m sure that you and Terry know that bearded aviator or some of his friends. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so perturbed about recognition. Unless we’re all wet, Dorothy, this affair is made up of local people. Mind your step – and we’ll see. Go to bed now and get a good rest – I’m coming upstairs as soon as I’ve locked up.”
Chapter IV
THE THUNDERHEAD
Dorothy telephoned the Walters next morning, to learn from a maid that Terry was still missing, and that Mr. Walters was down in the village, putting the matter in the hands of the police.
“May I speak to Mrs. Walters?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not, miss. Mrs. Walters has been up all night. Doctor Brown has given her a sleeping powder and issued orders that she is not to be disturbed.”
“If there is anything that I can do,” said Dorothy, “telephone me.”
“Thank you, miss. I’ll tell Mr. Walters when he comes home.”
Dorothy rang off and went about her household duties with a heavy heart.
Later on she motored to the village to do her marketing, and upon her return found that her father had telephoned. She immediately called up the New Canaan Bank, of which he was president.
“Any news, Daddy?” she inquired anxiously, as soon as she was put through to him.
“That you, Dorothy?” she heard him say. “Yes – Terry’s car has been found.”
“Where, Daddy?”
“On a wood road in the hills back of the Norwalk reservoir. The car was empty. A farmer driving through there found it early this morning and phoned the license number to the police.”
“But what in the world could Terry have been doing way over there? I know that road. It’s no more than a bridle path – the reservoir is three or four miles beyond Silvermine.”
“My opinion is that Terry was never anywhere near the place,” explained her father. “He was undoubtedly held up, removed to another car and his own run over to the spot where it was found.”
“No sign of him, I suppose?”
“No. I’ve talked with Walters. The poor man is nearly off his head with worry. We’re getting up searching parties to cooperate with the police. I’ll see you at dinner tonight. It will be impossible for me to get home at noon.”
“I’ll hope to have some news for you, then,” said Dorothy.
“Going up in spite of the rain?”
“I’ve got to. We can’t afford to waste time – the weather’s not so bad.”
“There are storm warnings out all along the coast.”
“I’ll be careful, Daddy.”
“All right. Bye-bye till dinner time.”
“Bye.”
She hung up the receiver and for the rest of the morning, busied herself about the house, determined not to let her mind dwell upon the darker side of this latest development. After lunch she changed into flying clothes and went out to the hangar.
Unlocking the doors, she set to work filling the amphibian’s gasoline tanks. Then she went over the engine carefully and gave it a short ground test. After that, the instruments came under her inspection. Altogether, she gave her plane a thorough overhauling, which was not entirely necessary, but kept her from thinking and helped to kill time.
About twenty minutes to five she ran the amphibian out of the hangar and took off into the teeth of a fine rain. It was no part of her plan to fly in the neighborhood of the Beach Club until the plane she was seeking should put in an appearance. Her self-imposed duty was to spot the mysterious amphibian and to follow it to its destination without allowing the pilot or an understudy to spot her.
So instead of banking and heading for Tokeneke, when her bus had sufficiently topped the trees, she continued to keep the stick back so as to maintain a proper climbing angle. Back in her first thirty hours of early flight training, it would have been difficult for her to keep Will-o’-the-Wisp (more often termed Willie or Wispy) at the correct angle safely below the stalling point, unless she could first recognize that angle by the position of the plane’s nose relative to the horizon. On a wet day like this with an