"I don't think there is a doubt of it."
"But how do you explain the fact that he was shot? Surely, if he and this thief were working together, one wouldn't shoot the other!"
Her father shook his head, and smiled indulgently. What a child she was! What did she know about the wickedness of criminals?
"I'm sorry to tell you, dear, that in spite of that old proverb about there being honor among thieves, there isn't much. They are so utterly selfish and unprincipled that if one finds that his pal is getting the better of him, he doesn't hesitate to wound—and oftentimes kill—the other. If Mackay was making off with the necklace, and this other fellow saw that all his work had been for nothing, one could hardly blame him for shooting.... No, I'm afraid that doesn't prove a thing."
Linda sighed; everything seemed hopelessly black for Ted.
"Will they put him in jail?" she asked.
"Whom?"
"Mr. Mackay."
"Of course, when he is well enough. Our detectives will see to that. We can't actually convict him till we have more evidence. But we can force him to tell what he knows about this other thief."
A lump came into Linda's throat, and she felt as if she couldn't talk any more. For the time being, even her interest in her plane was gone. It had brought so much unhappiness—first to Kitty, and now to Ted Mackay.