Dorothy Dixon Solves the Conway Case. Wayne Dorothy

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СКАЧАТЬ none of my particular business, of course, but would you mind telling me the reason for all this rough house? Why did those men attack you and tie you up – what were they doing around here?”

      George shook his head slowly. “Hanged if I know,” he said.

      “You don’t know? But they seemed to be asking you questions – from what I could see through the window, it looked that way.”

      “That’s right. But – but – well, you two girls are real sportsmen. You’ve pulled me out of an awful mess. Heaven knows I appreciate what you’ve done, but I just can’t have you running any further risk on my account, Miss – ”

      “Dixon,” supplied Betty. “I forgot you hadn’t been introduced.”

      George leaned forward. “Do you come from New Canaan?” he shot out.

      “Of course, we live there,” said Betty. “And I want you to know that Dorothy is my best friend. We’re seniors at the New Canaan High – if that interests you.”

      “So you’re Dorothy Dixon, the flyer!” he exploded. “Suffering monkeys! I didn’t know I was entertaining a celebrity. Why, you’re the girl I was talking about – who – ”

      “Here, here – don’t make me blush,” laughed Dorothy.

      “But don’t you see? Your being Dorothy Dixon makes all the difference in the world.”

      Dorothy’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown.

      “I don’t get you,” she said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Why, if what the newspapers say is true, you simply eat up this gangster stuff – a whiz at solving all kinds of mysteries.”

      “Nice lady-like reputation, what?” she mocked.

      “Well, that’s all right with me. Because now – I have no hesitancy in telling you all I know about this queer business. You’ll probably know just what to do – and you’ll be a wonderful help.”

      “How about me?” Betty was a direct little person and seemed at no pains to disguise her feelings. “I don’t think you’re a bit polite, George!”

      “Oh, I feel differently about you – ” stammered that young man, then stopped short and looked painfully embarrassed.

      Dorothy thought it time she took matters into her own hands.

      “Don’t be silly, Betty, George knows how clever you are!” She flashed a mischievous glance at her friend, then went on in a serious tone. “And of course we’re keen to hear all about it, George, and we’ll do anything we can to help you. But your story will keep a while longer. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning such a prosaic thing – but do you happen to have anything to eat in the house?”

      “Oh, my gosh! Of course I have – ” he threw a glance at the clock and jumped to his feet. “It’s nearly eight o’clock. You girls must be starved! Sit right here and I’ll bring supper in a jiffy. I was just about to eat mine when those two thugs dropped in and put an end to it for the time being.”

      “I’ll help you,” offered Betty, hopping out of her chair.

      “That’s a good plan,” decreed Dorothy. “While you’re starting things in the kitchen, I’d like to use the phone, if I may.”

      “There it is, on that table in the corner,” said George. “Hop to it. I’ll drive you home later in the flivver.”

      “Thanks, but I’ve got to have gas for my plane. We’ll talk it over at supper, shall we?”

      She took up the telephone and the others hurried from the room.

      Presently she joined them in the kitchen.

      “I called up your mother, Betty, and told her you were spending the night with me,” she announced. “Dad is away, so I got hold of Bill Bolton and he’ll be over here in about twenty minutes.”

      “Oh, fine – ” began Betty and stopped short as an electric bell on the wall buzzed sharply.

      For a moment they stared at it in startled silence. Then George spoke. “Somebody’s ringing the door bell,” he said slowly.

       Chapter IV

      VISITORS

      “You girls stay in here – I’ll go,” continued George, his hand on the swinging door to the dining room.

      “No, you shan’t!” Betty sprang before him, blocking his way.

      “Don’t make such a fuss,” said Dorothy. “Somebody’s got to go. Come here!”

      Her long arm shot out and Betty was held in a light embrace that seemed as unbending as tempered steel.

      “Stop wriggling,” she commanded. “This is George’s job. Did you leave your gun in the library, George?”

      “Yes. I’ll pick it up on the way.”

      “Better not do that. Maybe it’s one of your neighbors.”

      “Haven’t any. None of the people around here come to see me.”

      The bell buzzed loudly again, and continued to do so. Someone was keeping a finger pressed on the button beside the front door.

      “I have a plan,” Dorothy announced suddenly. “Betty, you stay here, and – ”

      “And have them break in the back door while you two are in the front hall? No thanks – I’m coming with you, that’s all.”

      Dorothy did not stop to argue. She hurried into the dining room and across the hall to the library, followed by the others.

      “Look here,” she whispered, picking up the shotgun. “Slip on your jacket, George. That shirt will show anyone you’ve been in a fight. Betty and I will go into the front sitting room. It’s dark in there. Turn on the hall light and open the door as though everything were all right, and you expected a friend. If it is someone you know, they won’t see us in the sitting room. If it isn’t – and they try to start something, jump back so you’re out of line from the door to that room … and I’ll fill ’em full of salt!”

      “Swell idea! A regular flank attack!” enthused the young man, struggling into his coat. “All set?”

      He switched on the hall light. The girls ran into the sitting room. Dorothy stood in the dark with the shotgun pointed toward the hall and saw him turn the key and pull open the door.

      “Good evening, George,” whined a high-pitched voice. “Mind if I come in for a minute or two?”

      “Walk in, Mr. Lewis. Bad night, isn’t it?”

      George’s face showed surprise but he swung the door wide and closed it with a bang as a tall figure, leaning heavily on a cane, shuffled into the lighted hallway. The man’s bent back, rounded shoulders and the rather long white hair that hung from beneath the wide brim of his soft black hat, all bespoke advanced age. Immensely tall, even with his stoop, the old man СКАЧАТЬ