“It’s the Mystery Plane!” she shrieked. “The nerve of him!”
On came the amphibian with throttle wide open, just topping the trees at the edge of the lawn. Then the four on the steps saw the pilot drop something overside and zoom upward missing the roof of the house by inches.
“I should say he has nerve—” Mr. Dixon pointed out on to the lawn. “Run out and get that parcel he dropped on the grass, Bill. This business is getting more interesting by the minute!”
Bill brought the package back to the porch.
“Oh, what do you think it is?” Dorothy grabbed Bill’s arm in her excitement.
“Calm down!” said her father, as Bill held out a small box covered with brown paper and sealed with dabs of red wax. “Handle it carefully—there may be explosive in it.”
“I don’t think so—” said Bill, “those things generally run by clockwork. There’s no tick in this box.”
“Come on—let’s open it,” exclaimed Dorothy impatiently. “I’ll bet it’s nothing dangerous. Couldn’t have been dropped from a plane without going off!”
“Wait one minute,” commanded her father. “We’ll be on the safe side, anyway. Don’t touch the thing till I come back.”
He ran into the house.