“There’s been a big mistake,” she said. “And your director, Mr. Von Goss, I believe his name is, has made it. I am the real Linda Carlton, and he has signed up an impostor for the flying part in his picture!”
A slight sneer spread over the young man’s features.
“I suppose you have proof, Miss—er—?” he asked in a tone that plainly showed that he did not suppose anything of the sort. How nasty he was, not even to call Linda “Miss Carlton” and at least give her the benefit of the doubt!
Dot’s chin shot up in the air.
“You don’t suppose we’d come here, without some proof, do you, Mr. Sprague?” she demanded, haughtily. “Miss Carlton is a very busy person, as you’d know if you read the newspapers.”
The man flushed at Dot’s high-handed manner; he was not used to being rebuked by others. Little as she was, Dot Crowley had a masterful way of driving straight at the mark.
Linda opened her handbag and held out her licenses.
“Just have these verified,” she said, calmly.
The young man stared at them.
“Where did you get hold of these?” he asked, slyly. “Find Miss Carlton’s handbag?”