"No. I'll drive you down to the shore and we'll take the N-9 out. Don't wait for your father to-night. Tell him what you want to at breakfast."
"But I've got to--"
"This is your flight instructor speaking, Dorothy. No lesson in the morning for you, young lady, unless you go straight to bed now and get a good night's rest. A clear head and steady nerves are the first requisites for flying."
"All right then. I'll turn in directly. Good night."
Bill was already seated behind the wheel of his car. "Good night, Dorothy. By the way, I've got a hunch about this bank business. After you've had some flight training we'll investigate together--and the plane will be a great asset," he added mysteriously. His foot pressed the self-starter.
"Don't be so vague--spill the news like a good fellow."
"Sh--" mocked Bill. "'Sherlock Holmes is thinking!'" His laugh rang out and the car disappeared in the deep shadows of the drive.
"He's not so dumb as he pretends," mused Miss Dixon. "What can he have up his sleeve?"
Slowly she moved off toward the back door of the house.