“She appears to prefer air travel, and she will travel again,” said Rosemary. “We have a hundred and fifty stewardesses in the air. Why not have a picture made for each of these? If they all keep watch, we may find her quickly.”
“Grand idea!” Danby exclaimed. “I’ll have them made at once.”
“I’ll be wandering about, as gypsy people have a way of doing,” Jeanne said with a fine smile. “If I catch sight of that dark lady, I’ll whisper 48—48 into my receiver and things will be doing at once.” Little did Jeanne dream of the strange circumstances under which that mystic signal 48—48 would slip from her lips.
“But tell us—” Jeanne leaned forward eagerly. “Tell us of these so terrible spies. Shall they be shot at sunrise?”
“No.” Danby Force smiled. “We don’t shoot industrial spies. In fact I’m afraid it would be difficult to so much as get them put in prison. An idea, however valuable, is not easy to get hold of and prove. You may steal it, yet no one in the world can prove that you have it. That sounds rather strange, doesn’t it?” He laughed a jolly laugh.
“And by the way!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Just this morning I received a message that proves we still have spies in our plant. A scrap of note-paper with plans drawn on it, picked up off the floor of the mill, proves that. And this,” he added rather strangely, “gives me fresh hope.”
“Hope! Hope! Hope!” the others cried in chorus.
“To be sure,” said Danby, “if they are still with us, then they have not yet secured all the secrets needed for their selfish and cowardly plans. You see—”
He broke short off. There came a movement at the draperies of the door. A head was thrust in. A smiling face looked down upon them. A pair of lips said:
“Jeanne, I have found you!”