“A stack of wheats!” He shouted as she uncovered the dish. “You’re a wonder, a magician, Dorothy. How in the world did you manage it?”
Dorothy laughed, pleased by his enthusiasm.
“Found a package of pancake flour in the locker. They’re simple enough to make. Now dig in before things get cold. Help yourself to butter—it’s rather soft, but this lugger doesn’t seem to run to ice.”
Bill set to work as she poured the coffee.
“Like it that way,” he replied, his mouth full of ham and eggs, while he plastered his pancakes with butter. “Well, we’ve sure put it over on Messrs. Donovan and Charlie this trip, not to mention your friend Peters. Got their diamonds and their boat and their clothes. Now we’re eating their breakfast,—the sun is shining once more—and all is right in the world.”
“Where are those diamonds, by the way?” exclaimed Dorothy suddenly, having taken the edge off her ravenous appetite.
Bill laid down his knife and fork. For a moment he looked startled, then burst into a great roar of laughter.
“We’re a fine pair of Secret Service workers!” he cried derisively. “But it’s my fault. You were all in.”
Dorothy’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you left them on the beach!”
“Surest thing you know. I left them beside you on the sand and forgot all about the darn things when I spotted the motor sailor. Never thought of them again until this minute!”