Dorothy Dixon Solves the Conway Case. Wayne Dorothy

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СКАЧАТЬ rough field that sloped sharply down the valley whence she and Betty had come. Then she realized that the house and orchard lay on a plateau-like rise of land which jutted out into the valley from the main ridge, the ground dropping steeply on three sides.

      “Well, the scenery couldn’t be sweeter!” remarked Dorothy. “Now, I hope to goodness they’ve left the keys.”

      It was blowing half a gale now, and rain in crystal rods drove obliquely through the flash light’s gleam. She switched off the light and stuffed it into a pocket of her dripping slicker and beat her way against the storm toward the house. Here she found the limousine, and hastened on toward the side porch.

      Lying flat at the window once more, she saw that a fire had been started in the fireplace. The dapper person crouched before it, holding an iron poker between the burning logs.

      Dorothy realized on the instant the fiendish torture those beasts were planning. She jumped to her feet and tiptoeing over the boards, raced for the car.

      Her hand, fumbling on the dash, brought a faint jangle from a bunch of keys —

      “Break number three!” she cried and slipped behind the steering wheel. As she switched on the ignition she brought her right foot down on the starter and when the powerful engine purred she fed it more gas and let in the clutch.

      The car rolled forward and she swung it round the corner of the house toward the garage, with her thumb pressed down hard on the button of the horn.

      “That’ll bring them out!” she chuckled and slipping into high sent the car hurtling off the drive, headed for the field beyond the garage. An instant later she dropped off the running board while the limousine raced into the field and down the steep hillside to the valley below – and destruction.

      At the same moment Dorothy heard shouts from the house and footsteps pounding on the gravel. She wasted no time peering after the car. Turning on her heel, she flew round the garage and over to the rear of the house. The cellar door was open, Betty was standing on the top step.

      “Down you go!” panted Dorothy. “Take this flash and switch on the light – quick!”

      A slight shove sent Betty stumbling down the stone flight and Dorothy followed more slowly, bringing down the wide door over her head.

      “The light, Betty, the light!” she cried.

      “B-but we can’t go into the house – those men – ”

      “Never mind the men – do as you’re told. I can’t find the lock on this door in the dark. Where are you, anyway?”

      “Right here,” said a small voice and the flash light gleamed.

      Dorothy shot home the bolt and took the torch into her own hand.

      “Come on!”

      Without waiting to see if her order was obeyed, she ran to the stairs that led up to the first floor. At the top of the short flight, she found a closed door. She opened it and stepped into the kitchen, with Betty at her elbow. Locking the door behind them, she flashed her light about the room, then walked over to a table and pulled out the drawer.

      “Here – take this!”

      Betty stepped back as a large kitchen knife was thrust in her direction.

      “Take it!” commanded Dorothy and again the smaller girl unwillingly did as she was told.

      “But – but you can’t mean we’re going to fight them with knives,” she spluttered, “why, Dorothy – I just couldn’t – ”

      “Don’t talk rot!” Dorothy’s tone was caustic. “Please cut the argument, now – I know what I’m doing!”

      Betty trotted at her heels as she crossed the kitchen toward the front of the house, passed through a swinging door into the dining room. An arched doorway to their right, brought the hall into view, and beyond it, another door stood open, leading into the lighted library, where they saw its single occupant still tied to his chair.

      “Go in there and cut him loose,” directed Dorothy.

      She pushed Betty into the room and raced for the open front door. She heard the sound of voices from the drive as she neared the end of the hall. She could see the figures of two men just beyond the front steps. Just as her hand reached the door handle, they turned in her direction and the black night was seared with the sharp red flash from an automatic.

       Chapter III

      IN THE CONWAY HOUSE

      With the detonation of the gun in her ears, Dorothy flung herself against the door and slammed it shut. Her hand fumbled for the key, found it and sent the bolt shooting into place. About the house the rain-lashed wind howled and moaned like some wild thing in torment. Her heart was pumping and her breath came in choking gasps. Leaning against the solid oak door she pressed her ear to a panel.

      The noise of the storm muffled all other sound, but she thought she could detect the mumble of men’s voices just outside the door. It was impossible to catch the words, of course, but the mere sound told the girl that they were standing on the small front porch. To her right was a sitting room. She hurried into it.

      A quick flash of her torch showed two windows facing the drive. She tried the catches. They were unlocked. She fastened them and ran out of the room, down the hall to the rear. The light from the library threw the staircase into silhouette. Dorothy started for the dining room, but stopped short as the young man whom she had sent Betty in to free, bounded into the hall.

      “Hello!” he cried. “Do you know where they are?”

      Dorothy pointed toward the front door.

      “Right out there!”

      “Good! I’ll fix ’em!”

      He raced up the stairs and she heard him running toward the front of the house.

      “Betty!” she called. “Come here!”

      “What is it?” answered that young lady’s voice from the library. “George told me to stay in this room.”

      “George?” exploded Dorothy. She ran to the door and looked in. Betty was toasting her soaking pumps from a chair before the fire. She turned her head when Dorothy appeared and beckoned toward the blaze.

      “Yes – George Conway,” she explained smilingly. “He owns this house, you see.”

      Dorothy’s fingers pressed the wall switch and the electric lights went out.

      “Well, you are a fast worker – ” was her comment. “Dash over to those windows and see that they’re fastened. Then pile some of these chairs and tables in front of the French doors – anything will do, just so it’s heavy. Hurry – and when you’ve finished, go into the hall and stay there.”

      Betty stared through the darkness. “But George says – ”

      “I don’t care what George says! The hall is the safest place right now.”

      “Well, why can’t you help me?” grumbled Betty. “Suppose those awful men come before I’ve – ”

      “They СКАЧАТЬ