“Meet Flash!” said Dorothy.
“Great suffering snakes!” exploded Bill, plucking out the blade, and examining it. “The thing’s a throwing knife.”
“Six inches of razor-keen, leaf-shaped blade,” said Dorothy, “and three inches of carved ivory hilt, beautifully balanced—that’s Flash. How do you like him, fellers?”
“You,” declared Howard, who was still goggle-eyed with surprise, “you are the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, Dorothy!”
“And you don’t know the half of it,” said Bill with unstinted fervor.
“Think I can take care of myself at a pinch, Uncle Sanborn?” Dorothy was laughing at the expression of astonishment on the detective’s face.
“You win, young lady.” He chuckled softly. “After this I’ll keep my worries for Doctor Winn and his friends. Who’d have thought you had anything like that up your sleeve!”
“Not up my sleeve, old dear. A little leather sheath strapped just above my left knee is where Flash came from.”
“Regular Jesse James stuff, eh?” remarked Bill as he handed back the knife.
“Oh, yeah?” Flash disappeared as quickly as he’d come, and Dorothy stood up. “What’s on the boards, now, boss?” she asked sweetly.