“Why did you tell him you were going to take the air about four?” she asked.
“Because if the smuggling gang know what I’m going to do it will save time if we pull off our little scrap this afternoon.”
Before this admission Dorothy had looked puzzled. Now her eyebrows went up in startled astonishment.
“Good Heavens, Bill! You surely don’t think that Mr. Tracey has anything to do with that! He’s as prim and prissy as a pussy-cat!”
“Just my opinion. Of course he knows nothing about the diamonds. But your prissy boy friend has the reputation of being the worst gossip in New Canaan. When he takes those gray bags of his to be cleaned, it will be all over the village that Bill Bolton is back and intends to test out his planes late this afternoon.—And that is just what I want.”
“Oh, I see,” Dorothy nodded thoughtfully. “But I’ll tell you one thing. If we are going up today, it’s high time we quit talking and got busy on the planes.”
With four airplanes to groom, the next few hours proved busy ones for both Dorothy and Bill. But by four o’clock everything was ready for their flight.
“Got your instructions down pat?” he inquired as Dorothy got aboard the Will-o’-the-Wisp. The airplane was resting on the concrete apron of the Dixons’ hangar, preparatory to the take off.
“Know them backwards,” she flashed with a smile.
“Good luck, then.”