Stanley Blake immediately showed great pleasure, imparting the information that, by a strange coincidence, his destination also was Desert City.
It was the unpleasant-faced Gibbons that inquired with apparent guilelessness whether they had friends at Desert City, and it was here also that Dorothy displayed tact and discretion.
She responded with the truth about her pursuit of Joe and went into details with such candor—as, indeed, why should she not, seeing that she was telling the truth, even if it was not all the truth?—that even the inclined-to-be-skeptical Gibbons seemed impressed.
It ended in their assuring her of their personal aid in the search for her lost brother. Dorothy thanked them and in a few minutes they took their leave, Blake being fairly dragged along by the insistent Gibbons.
Tavia guessed that the mind of the last-named gentleman was concentrated upon the dining car from which could momentarily be expected the first call to dinner, and in this guess she came very near the truth.
“Well done, Doro!” Tavia exclaimed as her chum leaned back wearily in a corner of her seat. “You pulled the wool over their eyes with rare skill. The next thing you know our handsome Cal will be baring his secret thoughts to you.”
“Not while that other fellow, Gibbons, is around,” said Dorothy ruefully. “He hasn’t much brains, but he has more than Stanley Blake, or whatever his real name is. Didn’t you notice once or twice how Gibbons caught Blake up when he was about to divulge some secret?”
“Did I notice?” repeated Tavia reproachfully. “My dear, do you think I was born yesterday? And now,” she added gleefully, “you have given me an inkling why I was thrust into this cruel world, Doro Dale. I believe I was born for this moment!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Impossible to avoid it, my dear,” retorted Tavia. “Now listen while I unfold to you my part in this drama.”