“Well, I think it is the most mysterious thing I ever heard of,” said Betty, struggling to stifle a yawn.
Dorothy stood up.
“Well, we can’t talk about it any longer tonight. Betty and I must be getting home.” She turned to Bill. “Did you bring some extra gas for Wispy?” she asked. “From the sound of things outside, the storm seems to be pretty well over. I don’t want to leave the plane in that woodlot all night. Some tramp might come across her and bust something.”
“I’ve brought enough gas to fly back to New Canaan and then some. I’ll go with you in the plane.”
“How about me?” Betty looked surprised, yet oddly hopeful.
“Terry’ll drive you home,” said Bill.
George looked disappointed, but voiced no objection to the plan, and Betty merely shrugged.
Dorothy spoke up quickly. “No, I think you’d better stay here tonight, Terry. Somebody ought to stay here with George ... pardon me, Stoker! But as it’s Sunday to-morrow, there’s no school to get up early for, and Stoker can drive Betty over to my house and come back here. Bill and I will bring her over after breakfast and we can see what we can do to locate that letter.”
“Good plan,” agreed young Conway enthusiastically. “I’ll be back in less than an hour.”
“But who’s going to wash all these dishes?” grumbled Terry.