Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane

“It’s Dorothy, your pardner!”

“Dorothy? Thank Heaven for that.” He caught at her hand and squeezed it. “We’re in the tunnel, aren’t we?”

“Yes – where it widens out into a kind of room.”

“I remember now – that guy slugged me when I was making for the candle on the table over there.”

“Who slugged you? The bearded aviator?”

“That’s right. I was coming along, lighting matches to see by when he stepped from behind one of the uprights – and that’s all I remember. Knocked me out, I guess.”

“He certainly did! You’ve a bump on your head like an egg. The helmet probably saved your life. Feel pretty rotten, don’t you?”

“You said it! Dizzy as blazes – and my head’s as sore as a boil. But I guess I’ll be all right in a minute if I can just lie still. Do you mind?”

“Of course not, silly. Take your time. I suppose you followed the footprints to the barrel, like I did.”

“Yep. But how come you went after me?” he chuckled. “I thought the idea was to beat it home in the plane.”

“Oh, Bill, I just couldn’t!”

Bill sat up. “Well, I suppose I was crazy to ever think you would – but I honestly didn’t think I’d get into such close quarters with that fellow. As it is, I’m mighty glad you didn’t take my fool suggestion,” he admitted. “Where would I be now, if you hadn’t shown up? By the taste in my mouth and the feel of my wrists, that galoot must have tied me up and gagged me!”

“He did that. You were bound to an upright. Have you any idea where this tunnel comes out?”

“Ten dollars to counterfeit two-cent piece, your Castle is the answer to that question,” he said, and lit a match. “Oh, there’s the table, Dorothy. Do you mind lighting that candle? I’m too dizzy to stand up yet or – ”

He stopped short and Dorothy saw his eyes widen in startled surprise.

“Look out!” he yelled and the match went out.

Dorothy felt a hand grip the back of her neck and immediately afterward its fellow clutched her throat. In a fierce frenzy of terror, she shot to her feet, gasping and choking and flinging her arms wildly backwards as she rose.

Chapter XVII

“THE TOMBS”

Dorothy’s vigorous motion forced her assailant to relax his grip upon her throat, and as she felt his weight upon her shoulders, she lunged down and backward. There was a dull, cracking thud, and the sound of a body falling. The back of her head struck one of the timbers that supported the ceiling of the tunnel. The place seemed to whirl round and round and glittering sparks danced before her eyes. When this sensation ceased, Dorothy leaned back against the post into which she had flung herself in her apparently successful effort to shake off her opponent.

With the realization that the attack had halted and that her assailant had either made his escape or was incapacitated, she fumbled in her pocket for a match.

“Where are you, Dorothy?” Bill’s voice called from the dark void.

“Right here, old thing – by the wall.”

She struck a light.

“All right?”

He looked pale and shaken in the flicker of the tiny flame. She saw that he grasped the crowbar.

“A bit woozy,” she replied, and lit the candle on the table. “Cracked my head on a beam or something.”

“That bearded guy didn’t hurt you?”

“He didn’t get a chance. Which way do you think he went?”

Bill laughed softly. “You put him out of business. Look!”

He pointed toward an upright and Dorothy saw a crumpled figure lying huddled at the base of the post.

“Goodness! You don’t think I’ve finished him?” she breathed in horrified alarm.

“No such luck,” he affirmed callously and bent over the man’s body. “Sit down until you feel better. This chap is only stunned. I’ll take care of him.”

Dorothy stumbled over to the table. Near-by was a chair. She dropped into it.

“He bumped his skull on this post,” Bill went on. “No great damage, I guess. Funny – whenever there’s a rough-house in the dark, somebody invariably gets a broken head. The three of us are even now.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Her dizziness was passing.

“Oh, I’ll give him as good as he gave me, and lash him to this upright.”

He busied himself tying up the unconscious smuggler. When he had finished, he looked up and beckoned to Dorothy.

“Come over here. He’s plenty secure now. This rope held me, I guess it’ll hold him.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Find out who this chap really is.”

His fingers peeled off the false beard and Dorothy cried out in astonishment.

“Mr. Tracey!” she gasped.

“It’s Tracey, all right!”

“But who’d have thought that sleek pussy cat was mixed up in this? Aren’t you surprised, Bill?”

“Not very. When his car had the breakdown this morning I began to suspect. The whole thing was too darn opportune. He was part of their system of watchers, of course. Probably wanted to find out how we’d taken their warning.”

“But surely Mr. Holloway can have nothing to do with it! He’s such a sweet old man.”

Billy transferred two revolvers from Tracey’s belt to his own.

“If you want my candid opinion,” he said, “Old Holloway is the leader and brains of the gang. Only it’s going to be the dickens and all to prove it in a court of law.”

Dorothy stared at him incredulously. “Why, Bill – are you sure?”

“Why not? He’s just a double-dealer, that’s all. That wise old bird is certain to have a flock of cast iron alibis up his sleeve. He must have made more than enough money out of this diamond smuggling to keep Tracey’s mouth shut – and the mouths of any others who may be corralled.”

“I’ve got a hunch,” said Dorothy.

“Let’s have it.”

“Not yet. I want to chew it over a bit. Let’s go back now and get help.”

“That’s for you to do. I’m going on to the Castle and surprise whoever’s there. I don’t think they have a suspicion of what has happened down here. Tracey never got that far, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, you can take it from me that you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

Bill hesitated.

“Well, perhaps that’s the best way, after all,” he admitted at last. “It will take some time to get the proper people over here – and by then somebody in the Castle might spot the crumpled plane and start to investigate. Time’s more than money now – let’s go.”

“But do you think you can make it?”

“Can do,” he said grimly. “I’ve got a sweet headache, but it might be worse. How about you?”

“Ditto,” she smiled. “Are you going to drag that heavy crowbar?”

“Think it might be wise. Lucky I found it by that camouflaged dump. I had to bash the lock of the door to the main tunnel with it. And there may be another door farther along.”

“Then I’ll take the candle,” she said. With the light held well over her head, she followed him out of the chamber.

The tunnel from here on was concreted, walls, roof and floor. Passing quickly along for possibly a hundred yards, they approached a steep flight of steps. At the top they found a closed door. Bill turned the handle and it swung inward.

“Guess I won’t need this any more,” he said and braced the door open with the crowbar. “If they’re too many for us, we may have to leave in a hurry. Just as well to keep the way clear.”

By the feeble light of the candle they saw that they stood in a small whitewashed cellar. Leading off this to the left, was an open corridor, and from some distance down this passage came the glow of electric light. A large safe, painted white, was built into a corner of the cellar wall.

At a nod from Bill, Dorothy blew out the light and placed the candlestick on the stone floor. Then as she straightened up he brought his lips close to her ear.

“I’ll bet that’s where they keep the loot! Follow me, and hold your gun handy.”

One after the other, on tiptoe, the pair crept across the cellar, their rubber-soled shoes making not the slightest sound. When they came to the corridor, Bill slackened his pace but continued to stalk steadily forward. On their left the whitewashed wall led straight on in an unbroken line. In the right wall, they saw the iron grills of cells. They passed the first, which was dark, and evidently empty. From the second came the glow of light.

Bill turned and placed a finger on his lips. Then he got down on his hands and knees and crawled forward to the door.

“Good heavens!” Dorothy heard him gasp. “So that’s where they had you!”

He stood up and she hurried toward him.

“Terry!”

Her cry was one of absolute amazement. Through the grating she saw her long lost friend, starting up from his cot where he had been reading when Bill’s exclamation caused him to look around. Terry advanced to the door and greeted them.

“Well, by all that’s wonderful! Dorothy! Bill Bolton! What – ”

“Are you all right? You’re not hurt or anything?” Dorothy’s excited whisper broke in upon his incoherent surprise.

“No, I’m safe and sound, except that I’m pretty tired of reading – cooped up in this hole. But say, how did you two manage to get down here?”

“Through the tunnel,” replied Bill with a grin.

“Gee, is there a tunnel, too? Never heard of it. How about that lad Peters and the others – you didn’t see them?”

“No, we came through the cellar. Have you any idea where they are?”

“Upstairs, probably – in the house – playing cards. Since Peters came here a few days ago he’s been bringing me my grub. He’s quite chatty; likes to boast about how he trims those others at poker.”

“How many men are there altogether, do you know?” asked Dorothy.

“I’ve never seen more than three at a time, unless you count their be-whiskered pilot I mixed it up with at the beach club. Remember him, Dorothy? But he doesn’t come around much, so Peters says. He doesn’t like him – thinks he’s high-hat.”

“Well, he’s out of the picture, now,” declared Bill. “We got him in the tunnel.”

“Yes – and Terry, do you know that he is Mr. Tracey?” Dorothy could not contain the exciting news any longer.

“Great grief! You don’t say so! I never could stand that fellow – didn’t think he had sense enough to come in out of the rain. But then, you never can tell which way a cat will jump.” He stepped closer to the grill and looked anxiously from Bill to Dorothy. “Say, do you think you two could find a way of getting me out of here?”

“We left a grand crowbar in the cellar! Don’t you think we could bash the lock with it, Bill?”

“Might pry it open. But I’m afraid the noise would give us away – ”

“Not a chance of that – if you mean it might disturb the poker players,” Terry interrupted. “There’s a perfect whale of a sound proof door at the head of the stairs. I was brought down that way. They always keep it shut.”

“Good!” Bill hurried off to get the crowbar.

“What’s all this about, Dorothy?” asked Terry. “All I know is that these lads held up my car the night of the Sillies. Some bird in a mask drew a gun on me – my eyes were bandaged and I was popped into another bus and brought over here. Where am I, anyway?”

“Why, you’re in that old stone Castle – near North Stamford. This is a diamond smuggling gang we’re up against. The local and the state police, not to mention Secret Service agents, have been scouring the country for you. Wait till you see the newspapers! You’re nationally famous! But your mother and father and the rest of us have been terribly worried.”

Terry nodded. “I’ve been thinking of that,” he replied. “But diamond smugglers, eh! No wonder – ” he whistled softly. “You’ve no idea what it was like to be caged up here – thinking of the family and how terrible it was for them – not knowing why I was here, or if I’d ever be set free. Yet they’ve not tried any rough stuff. Gave me plenty of books and magazines, and enough decent food, thank goodness!”

Bill reappeared, carrying the bar.

“Now get back from the door, Terry,” he cautioned. “I’m going to have a go at it with this.”

He placed the end of the crowbar through the grating and behind the steel disk which held the lock. Then he shoved it forward and sideways until that end was jammed between the inner edge of the door and the frame.

“Lend me a hand, please, Dorothy, and we’ll see what a bit of leverage will do.”

Together they seized the crowbar and pulled. There was a sharp snap and the door flew open.

“Good enough!” cried Terry. He sprang into the corridor and grasped their hands.

“You said it,” laughed Bill. “That’s the second time this bar has come in handy since we started this job. If we ever get out of here I’m going to keep it as a souvenir.”

“I’ll take the diamonds,” Dorothy added enthusiastically.

“What’s on deck now?” inquired Terry.

Bill grew suddenly serious.

“Have you any idea where they keep themselves above?”

“It’s ten to one they’ll be playing poker in the kitchen. They’ve nothing else to do now, except to feed me – or so Peters says.”

“Where’s the kitchen? I mean, how do we get to it from here?”

“It’s along this passage and up the staircase at the end. The door at the top – the sound proof one – opens into the kitchen.”

Bill handed Terry a gun. “Don’t be afraid to use it,” he commanded. “They won’t hesitate to shoot if they get a chance.”

Terry looked at him in great disdain. “Say, just because I appear to be my cheerful self and so on, don’t get the idea that I’ve enjoyed this rest cure. All I’ve been thinking about for days – and nights too – is the chance to get even with them. Now I have it.” He patted the revolver.

“O.K. then, come along, both of you.”

It was but a step to the turn in the passage. Directly ahead lay a steep flight of stairs. And at the top was the silent menace of the closed door.

Chapter XVIII

THE FLAGS

“Do you think it will be unlocked?” Bill dropped his voice to a whisper. The three were standing on the landing at the head of the stairs, facing the door.

“Sure to be,” returned Terry. “That is, if we can take friend Peters’ word for it. He spilled all this dope when he’d had an argument with the rest of the gang.”

“Then let’s go – ” said Bill. “You stand to one side, Dorothy.”

“Shucks!” With a twist of the handle, that young lady threw the door wide and jumped into the room.

“Hands up! Stick ’em up!” she cried.

Two of the three men seated at the table complied at once with her command. Their hands shot above their heads with the rapidity of lightning. The third reached for a revolver that lay amongst the scattered cards.

“Bang!”

The man gave a cry of pain and caught at his shattered wrist with his other hand.

Startled by the sudden detonation just behind her, Dorothy almost dropped her gun.

“Dog-gone it!” Terry seemed annoyed.

“What’s the matter?” Bill still covered the men.

“Matter enough! Too much rest cure, I guess. Forgot to remove the safety catch on this gat you gave me. Lucky you fired when you did.”

“Well, never mind that now,” Bill’s words were crisp and to the point. “Grab that clothesline and tie their hands behind their backs. That’s right! Dorothy, will you give first aid to that fellow’s wrist? I’ll see that they don’t play any tricks.”

After securing the men, Terry searched their clothes and produced two revolvers and a wicked looking knife. He also took a ring of keys from Peters.

“Gee!” exclaimed that gentleman. “If it ain’t the girl what blame near kicked me teeth out I’ll eat me bloomin’ hat!”

“You’ll eat skilly in Wethersfield Prison, or Atlanta, before you get through,” Terry promised. “Shake a leg – both of you. Down to the cells for yours. Did you ever realize what a swell difference there is between the titles of jailer and prisoner? March!”

“Wait a minute!” Dorothy cut in. “I’ll help you take this man along, too. I’ve done all I can for him. It’s a clean hole through his wrist. Bone’s broken but the bullet missed the artery. He might be worse off.”

Bill spoke from the doorway that led into the rest of the house. “While you’re gone I’ll search this place for any other members that might otherwise be overlooked!”

After housing the smugglers in cells, Dorothy and Terry returned to the kitchen and were surprised to find Bill speaking over the telephone.

“And that’s that, Dad,” they heard him say. “Spread the good tidings in proper places and make it snappy, please. Bye-bye!”

He placed the receiver on its hook.

“I guess you got that,” he smiled. “Dad will phone the police and Washington. Then he’s driving over here with Frank. And he will also let Mr. Walters and your father know, Dorothy.”

“Fine – I’m glad he thought of that!” Dorothy laughed in excited approval.

“Didn’t take you long to search the place,” said Terry.

“No – only a few rooms on this floor are being used. The staircase is thick with dust. Nobody up there – no footprints.”

“Well, what’s to do now?”

“We’ll wait for Dad, of course,” said Bill, “and then Dorothy and I can fly our respective planes home. How about it, pal? Feel able to do that?”

Dorothy lifted her eyebrows in derision. “Well, I should hope so! I suppose I do look pretty frazzled – but you don’t seem in the best condition yourself. However – I’ve another plan.”

“What’s that?”

Terry had taken over the phone and was talking in low tones to his mother.

“Do you remember I told you I had a hunch, Bill?”

“Yes, I do. What about it?”

“We’re going to follow my hunch.”

“Where to?”

“Well, we’ll start out of this house – by the front door this time, if you please – then across the meadow and through the wood to the field where our planes are parked.”

“And – ?”

“And then you’re going to get into the rear cockpit of Will-o’-the-Wisp and take a little hop with me.”

Bill looked surprised. “What about my Ryan?”

“Oh, Frank can pilot her home.”

“Yes? And then where are we going?”

“That’s my secret. Tell Terry, and come along now. We’re in a hurry, even if you don’t know it.”

“Well, I’m evidently not supposed to know anything of this new mystery!”

“Don’t be stuffy! Come on, now. This is serious, Bill, really, I’m not leading you on a wild goose chase, I promise you.”

“Humph! It must be hot stuff – not!”

Dorothy made a face at him. “I want to tell you it’s the hottest stuff of the whole business. And I just want you to be in at the finish, don’t you see, stupid?”

“All right. As you insist – ”

“That’s right. Of course I do. And when we’ve done this thing up brown, I’ll cart you back home to dinner – and if you are very good you can sit next to me!”

Bill grinned. “You may be New England Yankee, but that line of blarney you hand out spells Ireland in capital letters! Come on then, we’ll leave Terry to guard the fort.”

After they had put that young man wise to their plans, the two left the Castle. They were both pretty nearly exhausted after their experiences in the tunnel, but the success of their adventure was elating, and more than made up for its bad effects.

“Well, here’s the field just where we left it,” announced Bill as he helped Dorothy over the stone fence. “And there’s that Willy plane of yours, too. Whither away?”

“Hop in and you’ll see.”

Five minutes later, Bill looked down from his seat in the rear cockpit and saw that she was going to land near the tennis courts in the broad parking space behind the cabanas at the beach club. The members had become used to seeing her land Will-o’-the-Wisp on the club grounds. Their descent therefore caused little or no notice. The plane stopped rolling and a man in the club uniform of a beach attendant ran up.

“Hello, Jeffries,” waved Bill. “I thought you might be here. How are things?”

“We caught Donovan and Charlie Myers over at Babylon. But they’re small fry. Anything new, Bolton?”

Bill got out of the plane and helped Dorothy to descend.

“I should say there is! Tell you about it in a minute. Dorothy, let me present Mr. Arthur Jeffries, one of the very big men of the United States Secret Service. Arthur, this is the famous Dorothy Dixon!”

Arthur Jeffries said some polite things which caused Dorothy to blush modestly, and in a few pithy sentences Bill told the story of their afternoon.

“So you see, old man,” he ended. “You won’t have to wait around this club any longer disguised as a goldfish or what have you – because the bearded aviator won’t fly the Mystery Plane over here any more – that is to say – not for twenty years or so at the soonest.”

“He’ll get all that or more,” Jeffries commented crisply. “But the man he worked for – sunning himself over there on the sand – old Holloway, I mean – he’s the nigger in the woodpile! The boss of this gang of diamond smugglers – but I can’t arrest him on that evidence!”

Dorothy made an eager gesture. “Will you come with me – I want to show you two something. We’ll go around the far side of that big cabana on the end of the boardwalk. We’re going inside.”

“Holloway’s bath house?” This from Bill.

“Exactly. I don’t want him to see us, though, so be careful.”

The three rounded the gaily painted cottage and ducking under the red and black striped awning, entered the front room which was fitted out with the usual wicker furniture and bright rugs.

“I wonder where he keeps them,” Dorothy murmured to herself. “Ah – this looks like it!”

She lifted the hinged lid of a handsome sea chest and pulled forth a dozen or more colored flags.

“By jove! The goods!” cried Bill. “How did you ever guess it, Dot?”

Dorothy was so pleased by her find that she passed over his use of the despised diminutive.

“I just happened to remember that he generally decked out his cabana with a flock of these things. And though the club runs up flags on special occasions, Mr. Holloway did it nearly every afternoon. It came to me when you pulled off Tracey’s beard back there in the tunnel.”

“Precisely,” said Arthur Jeffries. “Holloway would get word in New York at his office, probably, when a liner carrying contraband was expected off Fire Island light. Then he’d come out here and signal the time to Tracey in his airplane, by means of these flags. I’ll bet the old boy never went near that Castle. Some alibi! He and Tracey probably never saw each other from the time he went to the city in the morning until he came home for dinner at night.”

“Are you going to arrest him now?” she asked breathlessly.

“As soon as I can get out on the beach. I’ll do it as quietly as possible, of course. No use in causing a disturbance with his friends around. So long, Bill. Glad to have met you, Miss Dixon – and many thanks. See you both later on.”

They left the cabana with him, but turned back toward the plane as he went down the beach.

“That ties it, I guess,” she smiled.

“It certainly does!” agreed Bill.

“Now – didn’t I tell you it would be hot stuff?”

He looked at her and they both burst out laughing.

“And the best of it is that the government will probably pin a medal on you for it!” he declared.

“Oh, Bill! Do you really think that?”

Bill grinned at her excitement. “You get into that plane and take me home to dinner. That was the bargain, and I’m famished!”

“Dinner!” exclaimed Dorothy in disgust. “My word! We’ve caught those diamond smugglers when the whole of the Secret Service couldn’t do it – and all you think of is food! Gee, I’m glad I’m not a mere man. Hop aboard. I’ll give her the gun and fly you home to your dinner.”

THE END

1

See Bill Bolton and The Winged Cartwheels.