“I know. But that’s only half of it. The gang has got to be rounded up. We don’t know where they have their headquarters or who is in back of this business. So I’d hate to have to admit I’d lost the diamonds, after all.” Then, as Bill began to reply, she went on: “And don’t forget that Terry Walters is still missing—or was, when I flew over from New Canaan yesterday!”
“You’re right, pal. I just didn’t want you to take it too soberly. But that bearded aviator has got to be checked up. No easy matter, either, after what happened last night.” He broke off sharply. “There are the old boxes—just where I dropped them—so you see you’ve had your worry for nothing.”
“Just the same, we’ve been terribly careless!”
“Don’t rub it in,” said Bill, looping the line and its dangling load over his shoulder. “These things go to a bank for safe keeping just as soon as I can get rid of them.”
Dorothy caught his arm. “Let’s pry open one of the boxes, and make sure there really are diamonds inside.”
“Nothing doing,” Bill answered decisively. “They’re going to be turned over to the authorities—as is!”
“Well, you needn’t be so snooty about it. But I am crazy to see the sparklers—especially after all we’ve been through to rescue them!”
“Of course,—I’m sorry,” apologized Bill with a grin, “I’m kind of jumpy this morning, I guess. Me for bed as soon as I can find one. But you know, we really can’t open those things up, because we’d then be held responsible for contents—or no contents—as the case may be. See?”
“I didn’t think about that, Bill. But let’s forget the old boxes. I’m all in myself. Any idea what time it is? My watch has stopped.”
Bill glanced at his wrist. “Just seven o’clock. Seems like noon to me. This nice warm sun is a wonderful help—I was chilled to the bone.”