“No answer at all?” Dorothy inquired anxiously.
“That’s what I said.” Bill’s tone was a bit gruff. He walked over to the range and warmed his hands at the glowing coals.
“What I mean is, could you hear the bell ring in Stoker’s house?”
“Oh, yes, the bell rang. But nobody came to the phone.”
“That’s what I wanted to know.”
“Why? I can’t see that the ringing of the phone bell makes any difference—”
“All the difference,” declared Dorothy. “Never mind why, now. I’ve just told Mrs. Johnson that I had to park Wispy on the other side of the reservation last night, and that some men over there were very disagreeable and we were forced to accept Uncle Abe’s hospitality for the night.”
“We think a heap of Uncle Abe on the reservation,” affirmed the superintendent’s wife. “And don’t you worry about your airplane, Miss Dixon. We’ll see that it don’t come to no harm. My husband had to drive over to Katonah this morning, but I’ll get Sam Watson on the job. He’s in the office right now. Sam!” she called, “come in here.”
A stalwart, broad-shouldered young man walked into the kitchen. His natty uniform marked him a member of the Reservation force.
“Did you want something, Mrs. Johnson?”