“Surprise them. Surprise them,” the others echoed.
It was in the midst of the evening conversation about the roaring fire that, for the time at least, all thoughts of treasure were driven from Jeanne’s mind.
“It’s strange about that airplane, D.X.123,” Sandy MacQueen, the reporter, drawled. “I had a sharp reminder of its disappearance only last month. Sad thing it was, and rather haunting. A girl with an appealing face, not sixteen yet I’d say, came into the big room of our newspaper office. Happened I wasn’t busy, so I asked her what she wanted. And what do you suppose it was she wanted?”
“What?” The moose-trapper sat up to listen.
“She said her father had gone way several years ago, when she was too small to remember much about him.”
“What did she have to do with the disappearance of the D.X.123?” the moose-trapper drawled.
“Perhaps nothing,” Sandy replied. “And yet, it is strange. The name of one man who went in that apparently ill-fated plane was John Travis.”
“John—John Travis!” Jeanne exclaimed.
“And you know—” Sandy turned to Jeanne. “That girl Florence got interested in—her name was Travis too.”
“June Travis,” Jeanne agreed.