The car rolled forward and she swung it round the corner of the house toward the garage, with her thumb pressed down hard on the button of the horn.
“That’ll bring them out!” she chuckled and slipping into high sent the car hurtling off the drive, headed for the field beyond the garage. An instant later she dropped off the running board while the limousine raced into the field and down the steep hillside to the valley below—and destruction.
At the same moment Dorothy heard shouts from the house and footsteps pounding on the gravel. She wasted no time peering after the car. Turning on her heel, she flew round the garage and over to the rear of the house. The cellar door was open, Betty was standing on the top step.
“Down you go!” panted Dorothy. “Take this flash and switch on the light—quick!”
A slight shove sent Betty stumbling down the stone flight and Dorothy followed more slowly, bringing down the wide door over her head.
“The light, Betty, the light!” she cried.
“B-but we can’t go into the house—those men—”
“Never mind the men—do as you’re told. I can’t find the lock on this door in the dark. Where are you, anyway?”
“Right here,” said a small voice and the flash light gleamed.
Dorothy shot home the bolt and took the torch into her own hand.