The other men in the room proved to be Michael Michaels and an inspector of the state police. For a few minutes everybody seemed to be talking at once. Bill told George and Mr. Lewis of his adventures with Dorothy, while Terry explained his capture by the Joyce gang to the inspector and Michaels.
“Listen!” said Dorothy and threw a reproving glance at the others’ unsuppressed smiles—“Will somebody please tell me what Mr. Joyce has been trying to steal from Stoker?”
“Why, that’s so,” interjected Mr. Lewis, “you have no idea, of course—”
“No, except that it’s probably mixed up with that book, Aircraft Power Plants, I think it’s called—”
The old gentleman looked at her in unfeigned astonishment. “Listen, Michaels!” he cried. “She says this business is connected with that book. Pretty good guess, eh?”
“Certainly is,” returned the detective. “But the book is a mystery in itself, and one we haven’t yet solved.”
“But what was Joyce after?” interrupted Bill with a show of impatience.
“The plans, of course,” said Stoker Conway.
“But what plans?”
“The plans of my father’s new aircraft engine. I knew nothing about it until Mr. Lewis told me last night.”