"Asleep! Oh, Jimsy!"
There was a world of reproach in Jess's voice. But Peggy interrupted her.
"How was it, Jimsy?" she asked softly.
"I don't know. I give you my word I don't know."
Jimsy's voice held a world of self-reproach.
"I was reading," he went on, hurrying over the words as if anxious to get his confession over with, "that book of Grotz's on monoplane navigation. I felt sleepy and—and the next thing I knew I woke up to hear you pounding on the door and shouting."
"A good thing the young ladies found me," put in the policeman; "shure I was after laughing at them at first, but then, begorry, I decided to come along with them. It's glad I am that I did."
"Who can have done this?" asked Roy, who had not a word of reproach for his chum, although Jimsy had failed dismally in a position of trust.
"Begorry, they might have burned you alive!" cried the policeman indignantly.
"No question about that," rejoined Roy; "it was a diabolical plot. Who could have attempted such a thing?"