“I can’t see any houses around here. Did you notice any as you came down?”
Dorothy shook her head and laughed.
“My eyes were glued on this field,” she admitted. “I was too busy trying to make a landing myself to take in much of the landscape. Wait a minute, though—seems to me I caught a glimpse of the Castle just before I put Wispy into that reverse control turn. Yes, I’m sure of it.”
“The Castle?” Bill frowned. “What in the cock-eyed world is that?”
“A castle, silly!”
“Make sense out of that, please.”
“Sorry. You’re usually trying to mystify me—I just thought I’d turn the tables for a change.”
“Oh, I know—I’ll say I’m sorry or anything else you want. Only please tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Well, it seems that about fifteen or sixteen years ago, somebody built a castle about two or three miles from North Stamford village. It’s less than five miles from where we live. Not being up on medieval architecture I can’t describe it properly, but Dad says it is the kind that German robber barons put up in the fourteenth century. Anyway, the Castle is built of stone with a steep, slate roof, which spouts pointed turrets all over the place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been built by a German—it certainly looks as Heinie as sauerkraut!”
“Who lives there?” asked Bill.