"I believe that I have done all that is necessary," said the Doctor after a few minutes--"and I think the patient will be more comfortable now." Then, with a sardonic gleam in his eye, he added, "Also, I have enjoyed our conversation very much!"

He walked to the sink where he washed his hands and dried them carefully on a clean towel.

"And so, if you young people are quite ready, we'll adjourn for that voting contest I mentioned a little while ago."

He motioned them to precede him, and brought up the rear with his bag as Dorothy helped Bill limp into the front room.

Politely, the Doctor placed chairs for them and bade them be seated. Never once had this black-eyed little man's manner betokened anything but courteous consideration. But his suavity troubled Dorothy far more than bluster would have done. She sensed the venom behind his smooth tones, the purring growl of the tiger before it springs.

Dorothy knew she was losing her nerve. But she looked at Bill and smiled bravely as they sat down.

Bill smiled back at her then shifted his glance with hers to the table, where the members of the gang were seated. The little Doctor headed the board, the others at the side facing the room. Next to the lame man sat the red-haired girl; then came Mike, Tony, who was nursing his jaw, Johnny, the man who had fetched the wheelbarrow, and another whom Dorothy had not seen before. Tony, she fancied, had played the part of chauffeur at the bank.

Then Bill broke into the low-voiced conversation that was going on at the table.

"How about unlocking these handcuffs, Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, my young friend. Even with your honorable wounds of combat, you are far too active for us to take any chances."

"But what could I do? You are six to one, counting Miss Martinelli--and all armed," insisted Bill. "These things are darned uncomfortable."

Tony shot him a deadly glance. "I'm glad to hear it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "You'll be a lot more uncomfortable by the time I finish with you."

"Shut up, you two!" snapped Sadie. "Now, Dad," she went on in a different tone, addressing the Doctor, "let's finish this business. We can't sit here gabbing all night."

"That's what I say!" This from Johnny. "Bump off the pair of 'em--they know too much. Then we can divvy up and be on our way!"

"You forget that it is our custom to put such matters to vote," interposed the Doctor. "Two of our company are upstairs and unable to attend. Also, another member is expected at any time now. Without his help our little coup would have been extremely difficult."

"Chuck and Pete are too ill to vote," argued Miss Martinelli. "As for Perkins--that sap is scared to death! I doubt if he shows up at all."

"Oh, he wants his share," declared the Doctor. "He'll come. We shall give him five minutes--and then continue our business."

He tapped a cigarette on the back of his gold case, struck a match and lounged back in his chair, inhaling the aromatic smoke with evident enjoyment.

Dorothy's eyes met Bill's in astonishment.

He smiled but said nothing.

It was interesting enough that Sadie should turn out to be the Doctor's daughter. But the news that Harry Perkins, her father's trusted lieutenant at the bank, was mixed up in this robbery was simply dumfounding to Dorothy. That was how things had been made easy for the gang--that was how they knew just when Mrs. Hamberfield's necklace would be in her deposit box. And another thing--Perkins' home was on the Marvin Ridge Road, just beyond the Mayo place where the Pen and Pencil Club were to meet! The Doctor had been coming from the Perkins' house when she and Billy had met his car. And that explained the absence of road oil on the Packard's tires!

Johnny's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"How are we goin' to make our getaway tonight with them two lads down and out upstairs?" he grumbled. "Our plan was to separate after we'd divvied up the loot--but them fellers can't be moved."

"Supposing you stay and look after them--" derided Sadie. "When we've made the divvy, as you call it, this bunch breaks up for the time being. We all go our own sweet ways. It's a case of each for himself. If you want to stick here and nurse those boobs upstairs, nobody's going to stop you."

"Not me! I don't know nothin' about--"

"Then keep your mouth shut. Whatever we do, we'll decide later on. How about the time, Dad?"

"Time's up," decided the Doctor with a glance at his watch. "We'll wait no longer for Mr. Perkins. Now, concerning our two young friends who were so unwise as to join us tonight--what is your pleasure?"

"Bump them off, of course, as Johnny so prettily puts it," yawned Sadie languidly. "I'll attend to the job, if the rest of you are squeamish."

"We will put it to vote," announced the Doctor. "Those in favor will raise their right hands and say 'aye'."

Five hands, including his own, sprang into the air.

"Contraries, 'no'."

"No," said Mike in a firm voice, holding up his right hand.

"The ayes have it," declared the Doctor dispassionately.

"What's the matter with you, Mike?" sneered Sadie. "Got a crush on the girl?"

"No," retorted Mike. "Just trying to stop you from making an even bigger fool of yourself than you are usually!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to pipe down, Mike." The Doctor's eyes gleamed balefully. "Sentence has been passed on Miss Dixon and Mr. Bolton--and that is all there is to it."

"That's where you're dead wrong."

"What do you mean? Don't you realize that these two know too much about us to permit them to live?"

"Have I said they didn't? But Sadie should not be allowed to be their executioner."

"Oh--aren't you considerate!" Sadie's tone was pregnant with sarcasm. "Want the job yourself?"

"Not particularly--none of us should do it."

"Who then, may I ask?"

"Why, Perkins, of course."

"You're crazy! He hasn't the nerve."

"Maybe not--make him do it anyway."

It was the lame man's turn to take a hand. "And why should Mr. Harry Perkins be so entrusted?"

"To keep his mouth shut."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"And I didn't think you could be so dense. Look here, Doctor. I haven't been one of your crowd long, but I'd never have joined up at all if I'd known I was getting in with such a bunch of nitwits!"

"You are forgetting yourself, I think," the Doctor's tone was cutting.

"No. I ain't. Listen--Perkins only came into this because he was up against it proper. How you found out he had speculated, first with his own money and then with the bank's, is none of my affair. What I do know is that when Wall Street put him into a tight place, you put up the extra margin with his brokers upon an assurance from him that he would do--just what he's done!"

"You are very well informed, Mike. And what then?"

"Just this: the bank has been robbed, but it was a crude job at best. Why the bulls haven't fastened on Perkins already on account of that time-lock business, is beyond me. Then, for once in your long and successful career, you were careless, Doctor. You allowed your paternal feeling to out-weigh your natural caution. The result is that the cops got Sadie's fingerprints and a description of you, of her and of Tony. I am simply bringing all this up to show you that we are not out of the mess yet--not by a long shot."

"In other words, you think we have a fifty-fifty chance with the police?"

"Better than that, perhaps. I think, though, that if we do get nailed, we should stop Perkins from blabbing--and stop him effectually."

"I see," said Sadie. "Let him bump off the pair over there--then take him for a ride?"

"Be still, carissima!" Doctor Martinelli was interested. "I see what Mike is driving at. He fears that if things should by chance go wrongly, Harry Perkins would try to save his precious skin by turning state's evidence. And that if he were forced to--er--place these two young people where they will do the least harm, Mr. Perkins will not be in a position himself to turn state's evidence--that is, of course, should it become necessary. That is your reason for not voting with the rest of us?"

"It is, Doctor. Do you wish to vote on it again?"

"Not necessarily. I consider your plan adequate."

"But why make the biggest mistake--of murdering us?" Bill entered the conversation.

Dorothy leaned toward him. "It's no use, Bill," she whispered steadily. "They've made up their minds--and you heard what the Doctor said in the other room!"

Bill did not attempt to reply, for Doctor Martinelli was speaking again.

"And why, in your opinion, are we making a mistake in putting you and Miss Dixon out of the running?" he inquired affably. "Take your time, young man, answer carefully. We are in no hurry--until Mr. Harry Perkins arrives."

"He won't arrive," rejoined Bill. "The authorities have got him by this time."

"Bluff!" shot out Sadie and turned fiercely on her father. "What's the use of all this?" she cried. "It makes me sick. Why do you stand for it?"

"Because he knows Bill isn't bluffing!" Dorothy's raised voice silenced the woman. "We knew that you had been visiting Harry Perkins this evening, Doctor. And we passed word to the police on our way through New Canaan. The only reason you weren't arrested on the way up is because they want to catch the whole gang together. If you hadn't shown up here, the rest of your people might have got wise and left before the police could make arrangements to surround the place."

"But, you see, my dear," said the Doctor, "I wasn't visiting Mr. Perkins this evening. I had just motored up from the Post Road, and--ah--points east, when I ran into you and your friend Bill."

Dorothy laughed. "Oh, no, you hadn't, Doctor. The road beyond Perkins' place was freshly oiled. There was no sign of oil on your car."

"She got you that time, Doc!" exclaimed Mike. "D'you mind saying why you were foolish enough to drop in on Perkins and put us up a tree this way?"

Doctor Martinelli was irritated. "Because the safest place to park that loot was in Perkins' house," he snapped, "and as he refused to bring it up here himself, I had to fetch it."

"Then all I can say is that you and Sadie have made a pretty mess of things."

"Is that so?" retorted the red-haired young woman. "Was it my fault that that fellow over there landed his plane on the lake? That was before the New Canaan deal. He had nothing at all to go on then!"

"That's where you're wrong," broke in Bill. "Your hair and those beach pajamas make a combination not easily forgotten. You wore them once too often, Miss Martinelli."

"And you seem to forget," added Dorothy, "that you've been finger-printed both in this country and in England. The police know all about you and your father and Tony. They probably have the records of the rest of your gang. If anything happens to Bill or myself, you are bound to pay the penalty."

"Say, Doc!" Johnny's excited voice sounded shrilly, "I don't like this--not a little bit I don't. Tie up that pair and let's vamoose. Them cops is likely to be here any minute. I'm tired of all this fool talk. Come on--this place is gettin' too hot fer me!"

Mike got to his feet. "I don't stir from this place until I get my share of the divvy," he declared firmly. "What's the matter with you, Johnny? If Doc lights out with the bag full of kale, it ain't likely the rest of us will ever get what's coming to us."

"But I can't afford to get pinched--" Johnny faltered. "Not after that Jersey City job, I can't. It means the hot seat for me." The gangster shivered and moistened his lips.

"It is my candid opinion that you are all exciting yourselves unnecessarily." The Doctor's voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "Miss Dixon and Mr. Bolton are clever young people--but not quite clever enough. They're throwing a gigantic bluff to save their lives. The police won't be here tonight. Why? Simply because if they knew anything about this house, we would have been raided long before this. Those two haven't told the police or anyone else a thing about it. They wanted to pull off their job all by themselves!"

"And how, may I ask, do you figure that?" Bill endeavored to make his tone sarcastic.

"For this reason: if you had reported what you had learned--and guessed--the authorities would never have permitted you to come here tonight. And this proves it!"

There was a light step on the porch and Harry Perkins came in through the open door.

"Sorry to be so late," greeted the bank's cashier. "My car broke down. I've had to walk five miles, at least--" He broke off, catching sight of Dorothy and Bill for the first time.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, "what are you two doing here?"

"They are waiting for you to bump them off," replied Sadie with a sneer.

"Why, what do you mean?" Perkins gazed breathlessly around the room.

"Just what I said. You are going to stop their mouths for good--and do it right now. We've been shilly-shallying over this business long enough!"

Perkins' glance took in the others seated at the table.

"Has she gone nuts?" he asked.

"We have decided that you are to do what my daughter has just mentioned," said the Doctor smoothly.

"And I," retorted Perkins angrily, "tell you here and now that I will be no party to murder!"

Sadie drew her revolver.

"Well--if he won't, I will!" she began when her wrist was caught in a grip of steel, then twisted up and backward.

"Drop it, little one--drop it--or I'll break your arm," said Mike.

Sadie shrieked with pain, but she dropt her revolver and Mike pocketed it.

"I'll get you for that!" she screamed.

Her father leaned forward in his chair. "Shut up, you idiot!" he said coldly and deliberately slapped her across the mouth with his open hand. "We've had enough from you for one evening. Mike was perfectly right to stop you. Perkins is going to do this job, and you know why he is going to do it. I'll have no more argument from you. Keep still now, until you have my permission to speak."

"But I tell you I'll have nothing to do with it," repeated Perkins, and attempted to light with trembling fingers the half-burned cigar he was chewing.

Doctor Martinelli swung round in his chair. "You'll do as you're told," he said through clenched teeth. "A little persuasion of the kind I have in mind has been known to make braver men than you change their opinions, Mr. Harry Perkins!" He glared at the cashier, who dropped his eyes--and the cigar--at one and the same moment.

"That's the way, Doc," applauded Mike, getting to his feet. "We've been sittin' round this table so long we're all getting stale. What we need's a little excitement."

He pointed to Dorothy and Bill.

"I'll take these two down stairs and stick them in the old wine cellar. They'll keep fine and dandy down there. Later, when Mr. Perkins sees reason he can run down and finish them off. While I'm gone, Johnny, you beat it out to the woodshed and fetch in a length of garden hose." He guffawed--"I guess you know that trick--the bulls have made it pretty popular?"

The lame man smiled and nodded.

"O.K. Doc?"

"It's a good plan, Mike. Go ahead with it."

Mike took a flashlight from his pocket and beckoned to the prisoners.

Sadie pushed back her chair and jumped up. "Tie that girl or she'll get away!" she ordered.

"Pipe down!" thundered the gangster and there was an ugly gleam in his eyes as he glared at her. "Give me any more of your lip, Sadie, and you'll take a trip downstairs yourself. Some day when you ain't got a thing to do fer a couple of weeks, try gettin' outa that place with the door locked. Run along now--murder yourself, if you have to--you red-headed bag of hot wind!"

He turned his back on the furious woman and motioned Bill and Dorothy to walk before him into the kitchen.

"Well, of all the nerve--" Dorothy heard Sadie cry sharply as Harry Perkins broke in with--"Look here, Doctor Martinelli, do you really mean to--"

Mike shut the door, cutting the argument in the front room to a mere mumble of voices.

"Down those stairs to the right and then straight ahead, you two," he directed, pointing the way with his flashlight--"No tricks, either, unless you want your buddie hurt worse than he is now, Miss Wildcat!"

Dorothy, with her arm about Bill's shoulders, stopped at the head of the cellar stairs.

"I think you told me you were getting two thousand dollars for your share in the New Canaan robbery," she murmured.

"That's right--a coupla grand," he acknowledged. "Not much, but when I made the deal, I wasn't as strong with Doc as I am now."

"If you let us go, my father will pay you ten thousand!"

"Nothing doing!"

"And I promise you he'll use his influence in your behalf, as well. It seems to me a mighty easy way to make a lot of money--"

Mike shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe it is," he admitted. "But then you see, I've never double-crossed a pal yet, and I'm not going to start at this late day. Cut the chatter now--there's nothing doing."

"You won't regret it, Mike."

The door behind them opened slowly, revealing Doctor Martinelli's slight figure.

"My judgment of human nature is rarely at fault," the little man went on rather pompously. "I believed I could trust you--now I know it. There's a full share coming to you on this deal, Mike. Cut along now, but hurry back. As soon as you've locked them up, I'll need your help with Perkins."

The door closed once more and Mike waved toward the gaping black of the cellar stairs.

"You heard what Doc said--down you go!"

"Over there to the left," he directed when his two prisoners reached the bottom and Dorothy helped Billy to hobble across the damp, earthern floor, in the shifting rays of Mike's torch.

Ahead in the wall of native stone that formed the foundation of the house, they could see a door of heavy wood, at least six inches thick. Mike pushed it fully open. For a moment Dorothy thought of jumping him, but now she saw he carried a revolver in his free hand.

"In you go!" he said roughly, elbowing them over the threshold. But instead of locking them in, he stepped over the sill and gently pulled the door shut behind him.

Bill, anticipating the end, stepped between Dorothy and their captor.

"Let her go, Mike. Her father and mine will give you anything you ask. Shoot me if you must--but let her go. Use two shots, and the others will think--tell them--"

"Quiet, please," whispered Mike fiercely, and Dorothy started, for he spoke now with the voice of a well bred Englishman.

"Neither of you will be shot tonight, if you do as I tell you. Here--take this automatic, Miss Dixon. And listen carefully, both of you. I've only a minute. You'll find a few useful articles under the pile of sacking in that far corner," he went on, pointing into the gloom behind them. "Then, get out of the window as quickly as you can--the bars are sawn through. Your car is still parked where you left it. Go straight home. That, I think, will be all at present."

Bill and Dorothy stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.

"Who are you, anyway?" the girl whispered, peering up at him.

"To ease your minds," he smiled, "I'm not exactly what I pretend to be. And I want to apologize to you, Miss Dixon, for the exceedingly crude game I was forced to play with you. The Doctor had his suspicions of me, until just a few moments ago, I believe, and he has had us watched ever since I brought you here. But now he has proved his judgment to be sound--" he chuckled to himself--"and has ceased his strict surveillance."

He paused a moment then went on, more seriously. "My name is Michael Conway. I am a detective-inspector in the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard. I've trailed certain members of the Martinelli gang all the way from London. My plans seem to have miscarried this evening; otherwise, you need not have been put to all this inconvenience. Remember that the house has ears, and be as quiet as possible. Good night--and good luck!"

The door swung shut behind him. They heard him turn the key in the lock and he was gone.

"Gee Whiz!" muttered Bill, "and I thought--"

"Sh--Bill!" cautioned Dorothy. "Never mind now. Stand where you are, or you'll break your neck in this darkness."

Her voice came from farther off now. He knew she was feeling her way across the room toward the corner.

Presently a light appeared and she spoke again.

"I've found the things," she told Bill. "Besides this flash, there's another automatic, a small ax, and a chisel."

"Thank heaven for that," said Bill. "Now I've a chance of getting these handcuffs off!"

"But we can't do it in here," Dorothy objected. "Remember what Mike said about making a noise. We'll have to wait till we get outside. There's the window. It's going to be a tight squeeze."

Her light showed them they were standing in a narrow room, walled like the cellar in native stone. Along the sides, piled one on top of the other were wine casks, which proved to be empty. The damp air was heavy with the fumes of evaporating lees. High to one side was a small barred window.

"Lean against this barrel, so it won't slip," whispered Dorothy, and clambered up to the window. "Yes, the bars are loose!"

She removed the short lengths of rusty iron from the open frame and carefully laid them on the ground outside.

"Now the paraphernalia--" She placed ax, chisel and revolver beside the bars on the grass and descended to Bill's side.

"Guess I'll have to go first," observed Bill. "We'll never make it, otherwise. Give me a boost, will you?"

They were both breathless and nearly exhausted by the time Bill had been pushed up and out of the window. Dorothy was so tired it took every ounce of her waning strength to drag herself through the narrow aperture after him. They rested for some minutes in the long, dewy grass, gathering strength and courage for the waiting ordeal.

As soon as they began to move away from the house, Dorothy realized that Bill was near collapse. Even with her supporting arm, he lurched and stumbled through the tangled undergrowth.

"It's that old hole in my leg," he grumbled in answer to her question. "It's opened up again--been bleeding pretty freely. You'd better leave me here."

He sank wearily to the ground behind a cluster of elder bushes, about two hundred yards from the house, the weight of his body pulling Dorothy to her knees beside him.

"I'll do nothing of the kind!" she whispered fiercely.

"But you must--I can't go any further," his voice trailed off weakly.

With a quick movement she felt for his wound in the darkness and tightened the bandage.

"We'll wait here till you're strong enough to walk, that's all. If I try to run the car up here, they'll hear it from the house. There's no use to try to cut off your handcuffs, either. The least sound will bring that gang down on us."

"Not the car--" he mumbled. "The amphibian--beat it for the Loening--and bring help."

Dorothy bit her lip. With Bill delirious there was nothing she could do but remain with him.

"That's all right," she said, trying to calm him--"We'll stay here till you feel stronger, Bill. Then I'll help you down to the car."

Bill had been lying on his side, his head pillowed on her knees. Now he wriggled into a sitting position.

"I'm pretty well all in," he admitted, "but I'm not off my head--not yet--if that's what you're thinking.--Didn't I tell you about the amphibian?"

"You certainly did not----" Dorothy's tone was relieved, yet excited.

"Well, here's the dope, then. She's parked in the next valley--over that hill behind the house. You'll find her under the trees at the edge of a wood lot. I flew up here several nights ago. Wanted a means of quick getaway, if it became necessary. Frank met me over there and drove me home. It's a rotten landing place. You'll find it worse for the take off. You'll be taking an awful chance to do it."

Dorothy got to her feet. "You certainly are the one and only life-saver," she breathed joyfully. "Every time we get really up against it--you've a plane up your sleeve or something. Don't worry--I'll fly it all right!"

"Hop it for Danbury, then. When you get there, land in the fair grounds. Phone the police and tell them to run down in a car and that you'll fly them back here. You can land on the lake. The bus has a searchlight--"

He broke off as the sharp detonation of an automatic came from the direction of the house. This was followed by shouts and the sound of a scuffle. Presently all was quiet once more.

"Something's up!" said Dorothy.

Bill nodded gravely. "I wonder if they haven't found we're not in the wine cellar--if they've charged Mike Conway with our escape?"

"Well, I'm going over to see."

"No, you're not--I'll go."

But by the time Bill had struggled to his feet, Dorothy had run to the house and was peering between the shutters of the side window. She stood there for a moment, then ran back to him.

"The Doctor has been shot," she gasped. "Not badly hurt, I think--evidently took it in the shoulder. But they've got Mike. He's tied hand and foot and bound to a chair!"

"That's bad," said Bill slowly.

"It's awful! They'll surely shoot him before I can get the police here!"

Bill hobbled back toward the shelter of the bushes with Dorothy's arm about his waist.

"Some break!" he said disgustedly, as he sank to the ground. "I'm out of the running and you can't hold up that bunch single handed--"

"I can try it though, Bill."

"Not if I have anything to say, you won't. There are too many of 'em--it's impossible. But what we're going to do now, I haven't the slightest idea!"

"One thing is clear--" said Dorothy firmly--"and that is, we can't let Michael Conway be butchered by that band of cut-throats. He saved our lives--we've got to save his."

Bill, his head in his hands, did not reply.

"If you were only in better shape so I could get those handcuffs off--and if there weren't so many of them in the house," she went on, speaking her thoughts aloud, "one of us might be able to hold them up from the window while the other went round through the door and took their guns away. But we can't afford to wait till you can walk alone and I can free your hands. What's to become of Mr. Conway, in the meantime? Oh, Bill, you're generally so fertile with ideas--can't you think of any thing?"

Bill lay motionless, and still did not answer.

Dorothy stooped over him.

"Bill! Bill!" she called in a tense whisper. Then, daring greatly, she flashed her light on his face, held it there for an instant, then snapped it off.

"Down and out, poor chap," was her summing up after a glimpse of his closed eyes and dead white features. "Loss of blood, probably. He'll come round after while--but when?"

Her heart sank. For several minutes she knelt beside his quiet form, lost in thought. Then she began to act.

"Sorry, Bill, old thing, but I've got to leave you. It's the only way." Her murmured tones were muffled by the sweater she pulled over her head. Stripping free her arms, she rolled it in a ball and placed the soft pillow beneath Bill's head. She gave him a little pat, then started off toward the hill back of the house.

Dorothy crossed the field beyond the farm's overgrown orchard in darkness. It was not until she reached the woods at the foot of the hill that she dared to snap on her flashlight.

Even with its help the climb was no sinecure. The hillside, steep as a church roof and densely wooded, was, moreover, thick with underbrush, which hindered her progress. Rocky outcroppings and huge boulders made frequent detours necessary.

By the time she struggled to the top she was winded and pretty well done up. Her vitality had suffered considerably from strain and worry and violent exercise during the course of the evening. She was quite ready to drop down and have a good cry, and to admit to herself right then that she was beaten. Only the knowledge that a life, possibly two, hung upon her efforts, kept her going. Stopping only long enough to tie a broken shoelace, she hurried over the crest of the hill and plunged down the farther side.

Here, her progress became even more difficult, for she floundered into a berry patch whose thorns tore her clothing and badly scratched her face and hands. Determinedly, she pushed her way through, gritting her teeth in pain.

Presently, after several bad falls over hidden rocks and tree stumps, she found herself on a narrow, grass-grown wood road at the foot of the hill. So far as she could see, the trail wound along the middle of the valley. But she hadn't the faintest idea in which direction lay the field (Bill had called it a wood lot) where the Loening was hidden.

Dorothy was totally at a loss. Why hadn't she taken more precise directions before tramping over here? This trail must lead to the wood lot or near it. Bill said Frank had driven there in the car....

"What a fool I am!" she exclaimed suddenly to the night at large and pointed her flashlight toward the ground at her feet.

There were the tire marks of a car, plain enough. Brewster and Danbury lay far to the left beyond the mouth of this valley which paralleled that of the gang's headquarters. Therefore, Bill's car must have come up the trail from the left. The tracks kept on up the road to her left--the wood lot must be in that direction.

As she trudged on, watching carefully for any deviation of the tire marks, she forgot her weariness for the time being. The winding road ended and she saw an open space ahead. It must be the wood lot. Hadn't Bill said it was the only possible landing place in the valley!

Dorothy hurried across the field, through a tangle of knee-high grasses and wild flowers. She pointed her light higher now and tried to pierce the black of the night for a glimpse of the plane. Then she saw it parked at the forest's edge, directly ahead, and sprang forward with a delighted cry.

As she came close, she saw that it faced the open lot, and silently thanked Bill for his foresight. With a plane the size of the amphibian it would have been impossible to swing round the tail unassisted.

Her preparations for this flight would probably not have met with her instructor's approval. But knowing that time was more important than detail, she cut them to a minimum.

A quick glance at the retractible landing gear sufficed to satisfy her that the wheels were securely blocked. Then she sprang aboard and gave the engine a short ground test. It was acting splendidly and she shut it off almost directly.

A hurried trip aft to the cabin and she came back to the pilot's cockpit, dragging the plane's machine gun, which, after some trouble, she managed to set up on its tripod which she fastened to cleats in the decking.

Certain now that the gun was secure, she adjusted the ammunition belt as Bill had instructed her. Then she raced aft again and overside. When she returned, she brought the wheel blocks with her. These she dropped in the cabin, saw to it that the door was properly fastened, then took her place at the controls forward.

The night was overcast and starless; the ceiling unusually low, and so far as she could judge there was not the slightest breath of wind. She switched on the plane's searchlight and started the engine.

The trees at the far end of the wood lot were uncomfortably near and high. Yet Bill had judged a take off from such a place to be possible, or he would never have parked there.

The big Loening was moving now--rolling drunkenly over the rough ground, yet gaining speed with every foot. She widened her throttle, steadily, fully--at the same time pushing the stick well forward. Then as the amphibian gained still more speed and she felt the tail lift clear, she eased the stick steadily back to neutral.

They were racing over the field now. She gave the elevators a slight upward pressure. The wheels lifted clear, but the trees at the edge of the lot were perilously near. She knew that when a plane leaves the ground its speed is not far above stalling point. And with these trees so close, to stall now would precipitate a bad crash--and failure.

Dorothy, therefore, kept the nose level for an instant or two, a dangerously short instant, she feared. Back came her stick again. The plane was climbing at last but at a frightfully precipitous angle. Would they make it? Would the throbbing engine continue to function under the unaccustomed strain?

Dorothy bit her lip. She eased off slightly as the motor coughed; but pulled the stick back almost immediately.

They were abreast the treetops now.--They were over. But with a margin so small that Dorothy was certain the wheels had brushed the branches.

She eased their angle of ascent, but still continued to climb. Then when she was sure they were well above the crest of the hill, she leveled off and banked to the left.

Once more she leveled off and turned on the electrical mechanism which raised the plane's landing gear.

Below her she could dimly make out the gangster's farmhouse, the lake and the stretch of ground between them. She closed her throttle, pushing the stick forward as she did so, and at the same time applied right aileron and hard right rudder.

As the plane shot downward she neutralized the elevators. Then did likewise with her ailerons as the proper bank was reached. Left aileron and hard left rudder were next applied until the wings became laterally level. Having completed a beautiful half spiral, Dorothy landed the amphibian on the little lake.

Her next move was an unusual one, but on it depended the success or failure of her plan.

With the airplane headed toward the lake's low shore beyond which lay the farmhouse, she turned the switch which propelled the retractible landing gear downward and into the water. Then she opened the throttle for the last time.

There came a bump and a jar. The tail tilted to a dangerous angle as the plane's wheels struck the shallows. Would they mire in the soft ground at the lake's edge she wondered, and cause the big bus to nose over and crash? But no--the plane, after a sickening wrench, rolled free. It glided over the sandy bank and on to the grass.

Shutting off her engine, Dorothy permitted her amphibian steed to come to a stop at the porch steps, its ugly snout poked almost up to the open doorway of the house.

Dorothy had been too busy guiding her bus to pay any attention to the reception accorded her arrival. A shot or two had been fired from the porch and she had caught a glimpse of dark figures silhouetted against the open doorway.

But now, as the slowing wheels struck the steps, the porch was empty. The way was clear for Mike's release. Together they would find Bill and make a clean getaway in the amphibian. What did it matter if the gang made their escape? Her life and the lives of her two friends were all that counted now.

To speed the departing company she turned the Browning into action and sent half a belt of bullets whipping through the door. But Dorothy aimed high. She had no desire to play the part of executioner.

From her place in the cockpit she got a good view of the front room. Mike, the Scotland Yard detective, still sat bound to his chair, but the others were streaking for the back of the house. She could see them tugging at the doors, which for some reason, seemed to give them difficulty of exit. Huddled at the far end of the room, they clamored and struggled to get out of range.

Dorothy stopped firing and Bill Bolton hobbled up the porch steps.

"Jumping Jupiter! girl, you're a wonder!" he applauded. "Hold the Browning on 'em. They can't get away. I locked those doors from the outside. Crawled through the wine cellar window to do it," he panted. "Thought it might embarrass them some--but this stunt of yours makes it perfect."

He took a step forward and raised his voice.

"Stick 'em up!" he cried. "Stick 'em up--every one of you--that's better. Now line up, facing the back wall--and remember--just one bad break is all Miss Dixon wants to rip off another belt--aimed right, this time--" he added significantly.

As the gangsters scrambled to obey his orders, Bill walked into the room and Dorothy saw that his wrists were still handcuffed behind his back.

"Who's got the handcuff key, Mr. Conway?" he inquired.

"Johnny, I believe," returned Mike quietly.

"Johnny, have you the key?" This from Bill.

"Y-yes, I got it."

"Got a gun?"

"N-no, sir, it's on the table."

"I'll take your word for it. Throw the key over your shoulder, then stick up your hands again."

Johnny complied with these demands, and Bill picked up the key by sitting on the floor and worming over to where it lay.

"Think you can turn this with your teeth, Mr. Scotland Yard?"

Mike nodded. Bill swung round and lifted his hands as high as his bonds permitted. The detective lowered his head and got his teeth on the key. A moment later there sounded a slight snap--and Bill was free.

"Good job!" He worked his cramped shoulders. "That certainly is a relief!"

He limped to the table, snatched a knife and a couple of seconds later Mike was on his feet. Without more ado they turned to, and roped the gangsters one by one.

Dorothy got down from the plane and came into the room.

"Who's going to stand guard while the plane goes for the police?"

"Nobody," was Bill's answer. "We'll pile the bunch in the bus and take them to New Canaan ourselves. Gosh, there'll be some big time in the town tonight, when we arrive!"

"This morning, you mean," yawned Dorothy. "It's getting light. And you two may not know it, but I could go to sleep standing up--and right now!"

"Brace up, kid! You're some aviatrix, even though I did train you!"

"I'll second that--" beamed Mr. Michael Conway, grasping her hand. "I had a splendid view through the doorway--and when that big bus hurled itself out of the water like a hippo--and began to charge the house, I--"

But Dorothy interrupted him with a shake of her head and an involuntary glance at Bill. "All I did was to take some awful chances with Bill's property, Mr. Conway."

"Ah--incidentally--saving my life, and making the capture of this gang possible?" smiled the detective. "You're a modest young lady, indeed. But I suppose we'd better be getting along--" and with a wave of his hand, he added, "it may interest you to know that the loot is in that kit bag under the table."

"O.K. We'll attend to that," said Bill.

Then turning to Dorothy--"I'll say you took some chances, young woman! How about getting a plane of your own to fool with from now on?"

"Oh, Bill! Do you think Daddy will let me?"

"I know he will." Bill was serious now. "After what you've done tonight, you've certainly won your wings!"

Those who have enjoyed this story will be interested in the next book of this series, entitled Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane.