They went to one of the waiting-rooms in the station and sat down together, Miss Carlton struggling hard to get herself under control. Suppose Linda had taken it into her head to fly back—and she and Dot were now lost at the bottom of the Pacific! Suppose—But Jim was already explaining.
“Well, we don’t know much that you haven’t read in the papers,” he began. “The girls went to the dinner and the reception in their honor last night, and were staying at the Governor’s mansion. We were going to sail for the island this morning, but there was no boat till tomorrow, so we called them on the telephone.
“That was about eleven o’clock this morning, and we were told that they were still asleep. We phoned again at one, and they had gone out.
“So we sent a couple of telegrams and waited. We asked them to call our hotel here at Los Angeles. But by seven o’clock there was no message, and we sort of got mad. At least, Ralph did. I thought maybe they had too much to do, but Ralph thought some new bird like that Englishman Linda fell for last summer was taking her time, and he resented it.
“But I persuaded him to give them another chance, and we phoned again. This time the Governor himself talked to me. And he was really scared.
“It seems Linda and Dot had gone to the airport right after they got up about noon, and had taken the Sky Rocket for a flight—”
“The Sky Rocket?” interrupted Mr. Carlton. “Has Linda a new plane?”
“Temporarily—yes. The Ladybug is here at Los Angeles.... But that’s another story.... Well, anyhow, the girls promised to be back early, for a dinner that had been planned in their honor but they haven’t been heard from!”
“Murdered! Attacked by some half-breeds, of course!” cried Miss Carlton. “And no man with them to protect them!”
“Nonsense, Emily!” returned her brother. “They probably ran out of gas—or damaged a wing. Or had a missing spark-plug. Linda will fix that, and those two girls will show up tomorrow morning.”