As Rosemary leaped from the plane, the woman came to meet her. She recognized her on the instant.
“That,” she said with no preliminary maneuvers, “is the little French gypsy’s plane. Where is she?”
“If we knew, we would be glad to tell you,” the woman said coldly.
“You know,” Rosemary insisted, “there is no need of covering things up. We know who you are and why you are in America. You need not attempt any violence. My companion is fully prepared to meet you.”
She glanced at Willie who had one hand in his pocket. She hoped he would keep it there. One fears what one does not see. And she believed these people were cowards. There might be a pistol in Willie’s pocket—just might.
Just how the matter would have ended had not a second plane circled for a landing at that moment, no one can say.
Rosemary was astonished and immensely relieved to see Danby Force and two uniformed officers alight from the plane. She was doubly astonished thirty seconds later to see Petite Jeanne, well festooned with clover, spring out from the broad barn door and all but throw herself into the arms of Danby Force as she cried:
“It is saved! My so beautiful big dragon fly is saved! My heart and my happiness, they are saved!”
This spontaneous burst of joy brought a smile even to the grim-faced dark lady.
Jeanne’s heart and happiness were indeed saved. So was the heart and happiness of many another. When, confronted with the facts and charged with spying out the secrets of the Happy Vale mill, the strange woman admitted it freely enough.