“Thank you,” said Jane.
The plane rolled to a stop in the Newark hangar of the Federated line and a huge limousine with two motorcycle officers flanking it, drew up to the cabin door.
“Goodbye, my dear,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness as she stepped into the limousine to be whirled away toward New York to the tune of screaming sirens.
Jane was a little breathless. It had been such an exciting trip all the way from Cheyenne. Now she wondered just when she would start back. An official hurried toward her.
“Reporters are almost tearing the waiting room to pieces,” he said. “They couldn’t see Mrs. Van Verity Vanness but they insist on talking with you. You’d better tell them what happened this morning.”
“But I don’t know what to say,” protested Jane.
“Just answer their questions.”
In the waiting room a dozen men of assorted ages, and three women, awaited Jane. The moment she entered they started firing questions at her.
“How had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness acted when the bandit plane swooped down on them? How had Jane felt? What had she served her passenger at mealtime? Had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness commented on the financial situation?”
It was a steady barrage and Jane’s head whirled as she tried to answer them all. Finally she threw up her hands and sank down in a chair in despair.