“Go on and tell me the rest.” There was no doubt in his tone or manner now.
“Guess I’m what is called kidnaped,” Roberta began, then told him quickly all that had happened to her right up to that moment.
“You certainly have been having a terrible time,” he remarked soberly. “What was that spring thing in your plane?”
“It’s an invention of Mr. Wallace’s and I really cannot tell much about it except that it’s tuned with the radio stations’ broadcasting band and when it is open, if the signal is investigated, Nike can be located.”
“That’s rich! And Pollzoff went off in your plane; flying right into the arms of the police looking for you. Wish I could see the performance.”
“I don’t believe she will do anything so stupid as fly into anyone’s arms, but just the same, they can find out where Nike goes, that is, if the thing works. Now, tell me, what are you doing here?”
“Sort of a prisoner myself,” he answered.
“Oh, did somebody catch you?”
“In a way, yes. I was one of the war air-kids, and after that didn’t want to do anything but fly, but the woods were full of fellows trying to do the same thing and the jobs were almost as few and far apart as hen’s teeth. Well, I grubbed around like a ground-hog at a desk I finally landed until I saved enough money to buy a plane.”
“Yes,” Roberta was intensely interested.