“Snips and snails and puppy dog’s tails,” said Bill promptly.
“Huh! The story book says ‘little boys’ belong in that category. Come, Bill, out with it!”
“Well, then, cutie pie,—Uncle Michael is a secret service man.”
“And Ashton Sanborn didn’t know it! Don’t talk rot, Bill!”
“I’m not talking rot, Dorothy. Uncle Michael happens to be in the British Secret Service, that’s why!”
“Ain’t that the nerts!” exploded Miss Dixon.
“You said it, kid! He got on to The Nameless Ones—that’s what they call themselves—over on the other side, in Europe, you know—worked his way into their confidence and joined up. Of course, with his government’s sanction.”
“And what were they up to?”
“Out to blow up the world with Winnite, I reckon. The Lawsons were to get two million plunks for the formula. Martie-boy was Number 1, by the way. The whole thing was financed by the Reds.”
“Nice people! What’s being done about it?”