Chapter III
WHERE'S TERRY?
Behind her, Dorothy heard a shout, and that shout lent wings to herfeet. Scared as she was, she grinned. For she was probably doing theonly thing her would-be assailants had not counted on. She was runningaway from the red lights and home, sprinting down the road the way shehad come. Overhead, tall elms met in an archway, and from the darknessat her back came the quick patter of footsteps. Suddenly they stopped.
Dorothy gave a sigh of joyous relief, for around the bend in the roadshe saw the double gleam of headlights, shining through the wet.Stopping short in the middle of the road, she switched on her flashlightagain and waved it frantically from side to side.
"Daddy!" she cried as the big car drew up. "I was sure you weren't faraway. Gee! but I was glad to see your lights."
Mr. Dixon snapped open the door and Dorothy slipped in beside him.
"Why, what are you doing out here? Have a breakdown?"
"H-holdup," she panted. "My car's down the road. Step on it, Dad--maybewe can catch them."
"An ounce of discretion is sometimes worth forty pounds of valor," hebegan, throwing in the clutch.
Dorothy cut him short. "Look!" she cried excitedly, and for all Mr.Dixon's cautious announcement, the car jumped forward with a jerk. "See,Daddy! There's my tail light! They've turned it on again. And the redlights have disappeared."
"What red lights?"
"Tell you in a minute. Better slow down. My car's out of gas. I've got apiece of hose in the rumble. We can siphon enough from your tank intomine to get me home."
Mr. Dixon brought his car to a stop directly behind Dorothy's coupe.
"Before we do anything, I want to hear exactly what happened, dear. Youscared your fond parent out of a year's growth when I caught sight ofyou waving that light in the middle of the road!"
"Poor old Daddy." She threw an arm about his neck. "You weren't half asfrightened as I was. Those men were pelting down the road behind meand--"
Her father broke in. "Well, they seem to have disappeared now. Let mehear the beginning."
In a few short sentences, Dorothy told him.
"So you see," she ended. "There's nothing more for us to do about it, Iguess, except to put some gas in my tank, and go home."
"Wait a minute. Hand over that flash, please." He opened the door andwith an agility surprising in so large a man, sprang into the wet roadand ran toward the gap in the wall.
As he ran, Dorothy saw a light flash in his hand. Then he went out ofsight behind the wall but she could still see the gleam through thebushes. Presently he came back to where she was standing beside the car.
"Vamoosed!" He tossed the flash onto the seat. "As there's no car on theroad ahead they must have beat it over the field. I wonder why theydidn't hold you up when you'd stopped for those red lanterns? Strange.Also, why do you suppose they switched on your lights?"
"It's beyond me. Well, Daddy, if you'll pull alongside we'll siphon thegas. This place and the rain and everything gives me the shivers. Let'stalk it over when we get home."
Soon they were under way, and they continued on to the Dixon placewithout further incident.
"Your shoes are soaking wet, Dorothy. Go up to your room and changethem, my dear," decreed her father. "While you're doing that, I'll phoneWalters."
When Dorothy came downstairs her father was in the living room.
"Come over here and sit down," he said, making room for her on thelounge beside him. "Terry has not come home yet. The family pretend notto be worried--and that's that. I said nothing about what happened toyou on your way back from Silvermine."
His daughter groaned. "Oh dear--if we could only figure out--but thosethree red lights seem to cinch things, Daddy."
"Hardly that. But they do make it look as though this disappearingbusiness is pretty serious--"
Dorothy interrupted him eagerly: "Then there isn't any doubt in yourmind but that our experience at the club this afternoon is accountablefor Terry's disappearance, and my holdup?"
Mr. Dixon, who was filling his pipe, struck a match and puffedcontemplatively.
"We can't jump at conclusions, my dear. My first idea about that planemay be the right one. On the other hand, this business tonight certainlyforces one's suspicions. If Terry doesn't show up by morning, we'll turnthe matter over to the police and start a thorough search. But I dothink it wise to keep the story of the amphibian and its pilot toourselves."
Dorothy nodded. "You mean that if we spread our suspicions to thepolice, they'd let the cat out of the bag and the man would be on hisguard?"
"That's just it. And then you must remember that we really have no factsto go on as yet."
"Well, I think I'll go to bed," yawned Dorothy. "Do you mind if I try totrail that plane with my own?"
"Not if you'll promise to be careful, dear. In fact, I think it's a goodidea. But one thing I must insist upon and that is--you're to keep meposted. No more of this taking things into your own hands, as you didwith 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 backto her father and kissed him. "Of course I'll tell you everything. Isn'tit too bad, though, that Bill Bolton is away? He'd have been a wonderfulhelp. Have you any idea what he is doing?"
"All I know is what his father told me--that he's off on some governmentjob. It may be Secret Service work, again. Anyway, he's to be awayindefinitely, 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 hisassociates _are_ behind Terry's disappearance, they kidnapped himbecause they thought he would recognize the man. And they tried to dothe 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. Theremust be a strong motive behind it. You don't strike a match unless youwant a light. But unless we're chasing moonbeams, something illegal isgoing on and if there is a hunt for Terry tomorrow, I don't want you totake 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 onher shoulders. "So promise me you won't go running about country byroadsin 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 worriedabout this mysterious business. Be a good girl and don't make it harderfor me, please."
"I'll be good, Daddy. If I find out anything tomorrow, I'll report atdinner."
"That's my girl," he beamed, and kissed her good night. "I shall noseabout, myself, a bit. I'm sure that you and Terry know that beardedaviator or some of his friends. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so perturbedabout recognition. Unless we're all wet, Dorothy, this affair is made upof local people. Mind your step--and we'll see. Go to bed now and get agood rest--I'm coming upstairs as soon as I've locked up."
Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane Page 3
