Linda nodded, wondering whose idea the masquerade had been. She asked the question.
“It was Mr. Sprague’s,” replied Fanny. “He saw the resemblance immediately to your newspaper pictures, and when he found out I could fly a plane, he told me I ought to cash in on it. I thought he was only joking, but he told me he was serious, and explained how you had refused movie contracts at enormous salaries.... Well, he kept after me, and when I found that I wasn’t getting any parts, and that my money was all gone and even my old job in San Francisco, I gave in and promised to try it.
“Les planned everything—even rehearsed with me how I was to talk to Mr. Von Goss. And it was he who pushed through the aviation picture.
“Mr. Von Goss was lovely—he never asked me for any proofs of my identity at all, just signed me up for the picture, and it was Les who made me insist on the enormous salary. I acted stubborn, like Greta Garbo, and I got it.
“And then Les proposed to me. Told me that he’d invest my money, and give up his job at the studio and come over here to Hawaii to live after we were married. He said he had a plantation here, and that I’d never be discovered as the girl who pretended to be Linda Carlton. Oh, Les can be very charming if he tries, and he made me think we’d live on this island paradise in a perpetual honeymoon.”
“Then you had no idea that he was also involved in anything that was crooked?” asked Linda.
“No. Absolutely none. I just thought that the masquerade was a clever trick, that wouldn’t really hurt anybody, because you had refused movie contracts.... Well, to get back to the story.... Everything went well till you girls appeared. Of course we were prepared for that—Les had thought it all out ahead of time, in case you ever did show up. I came back to Los Angeles, as you know, in a hired plane, and was just about to land when Les gave me the pre-arranged signal not to come down. You remember—waving his hat on the field?”
Linda nodded, though she had hardly noticed it at the time.
“I flew off and landed an hour later at Culver City. And he pushed the rehearsals right through, and the next morning he told me to go right to the Los Angeles airport and demand your autogiro. We’d only borrow it, he said, to get away. I believed him, and did it, for I was anxious to be married and out of the country. We flew to Mexico, as you know, and got married.
“And I guess you know the rest. How we circled about you when we found out you were chasing us—and how we changed planes. But you don’t know that Les made me fly that Sky Rocket at the point of a pistol. He seemed to change then and there into a demon, and he had me frightened to death. Of course I realized what a horrible mistake it had been to marry him.