Dick agreed readily.
“All right, then. You can tell your other comrade—Larry, you said you call him, Dick. I’ll leave a note for Jeff. Now I’ll go on up to the house and write it and make a couple of telephone calls—and then I’ll drop out of things—but you’ll hear from me off and on till we get those emeralds safe in our hands. Then—even while we’re waiting—if you can get your parents’ consent to stay, which I think can be arranged by Jeff—Larry can take some flying navigation—you, Dick, can study engines and construction, or navigation—whatever you like.”
He put a hand on Sandy’s shoulder and the latter managed not to wince or draw away.
“Sandy can have the run of my library, full of books on engineering and mechanics—and you’ll be learning while you help me get those emeralds and find out who flew the seaplane and who helped them on the yacht.”
“I know I can get my father’s consent to ‘visit you’ here,” Dick said eagerly. “And I like the plan,” he added heartily.
Sandy, watching their confidant stroll toward the closed mansion, turned a cold face to Dick.
“You’re a fine Sky Patrol,” he grumbled. “You swallowed everything he said, like a big softie! And told him everything you knew,” he continued, bitterly.
“Why not?” Dick wanted to know.
“You wait till Larry comes and I tell him my theory!”
“All right,” Dick agreed cheerfully. “But don’t start in earning your nickname all over again,” he warned.