“We won’t hurt you if you keep quiet,” hissed a voice in her ear, “but if you don’t, look out for trouble.”
“What are you going to do?” cried Peggy, through the muffling medium of the coat.
“You’ll soon find out,” was the rejoinder. “Jukes, bring her inside the shed and keep her quiet.”
Jukes! The name struck a familiar chord in Peggy’s memory. She knew now why the face and form of the man hanging about Fanning’s “Phantom” hangar at the aviation field had seemed so familiar to her. It was Jukes Dade, the man her father had peremptorily discharged. Peggy could not repress a shudder as she thought of the desperate character of the man.
Suddenly, as her captors half dragged, half carried her into the workshop, her body grew limp, and she fell in an insensible heap forward. She would have struck the ground had not a pair of hands caught her.
“She’s fainted,” cried Jukes, alarmedly.
“So much the better,” growled out his companion; “she won’t give us any trouble now. We can do what we’ve got to do and get away. Got the files?”
“Here they are,” responded Jukes; “just let me lay her down here while I hand ’em to you.”
He deposited Peggy’s limp form on a long box on which some sacks had been strewn. The next instant the sharp rasping of a file could be heard in the silent workshop.
“I guess this Golden Butterfly will have its wings clipped for some time to come,” chuckled Jukes’ companion, whom Peggy, of course, had not yet seen.