Linda Carlton, Air Pilot

"I imagine she believes Mackay guilty. That's what knocked her over so yesterday."

"Well, she'll get over that," returned her father, briefly. And he invited Ralph to come into the house for luncheon.

The young man, however, had the good taste to decline. It would be a ticklish situation at best – and besides, Linda ought to have some time to be alone with her father, if he were leaving so soon.

"But tell Linda I'll be over after dinner," he added. "The bunch is planning a canoe party."

Chapter XI

An Anxious Day for Linda

Never in her life did Linda remember being so exhausted as she had been on the evening of her flight to Green Falls. With her Aunt Emily's help she had somehow gotten into bed, and eaten the supper of milk-toast which the maid had brought to her.

Inside of an hour she was fast asleep, not to awaken until eleven o'clock the following morning, although her aunt, still a little worried about her fainting, was in and out of her room three times. It was upon the last occasion that she finally opened her eyes.

"Oh, such a good sleep, Aunt Emily!" she murmured, contentedly.

"Do you feel better, dear?" inquired the other.

"Just fine, thanks. And hungry."

"I'll have Anna bring you up some fruit, and then you can have lunch with us. Or would you rather have a regular breakfast in bed?"

"Just the fruit, please, Aunt Emily," replied Linda. How kind, how thoughtful, her aunt always was! No real mother could ever be more so. "You are so good to me, Auntie!" she cried, impulsively catching the older woman's hand.

"And you're always so appreciative, dear," responded her aunt, affectionately. "I don't think most young girls are like you. They just expect their parents to do everything. Older people like thanks."

"I guess everybody likes to be thanked, when they deserve it…" She jumped out of bed, and slipped into a chiffon negligee that hung over the chair. "And now I'll hurry with my bath!"

"Yes, dear – because your father arrived yesterday, after you had gone to bed. He'll be here for lunch, but he has to leave right after supper."

"Is he downstairs now?" asked Linda, excitedly.

"I don't know whether he has come in or not. He went somewhere with Ralph this morning."

"With Ralph?"

"Yes. Something about the theft, I believe… Well, dear, I'll send up some raspberries – or would you rather have cantaloupe?"

"Cantaloupe, I think, Aunt Emily," replied Linda, as Miss Carlton left the room.

Some of the happiness with which Linda awoke seemed to vanish at her aunt's statement about her father and Ralph. She had forgotten for the moment about the necklace – that airplane accident, and the shock of finding Ted Mackay. What could it all mean? Was Ted really involved in the affair?

By this time her father must know about him, since her Aunt Emily said he was with Ralph. What were they up to now? If Ted really were in league with the thief, would they put him in prison too? She hated the thought of such a thing – it did not seem possible. Surely, there must be some explanation. All of a sudden she longed fiercely to see the boy, to hear the story from his own lips. But he was in a hospital, unconscious – perhaps dying!

Anna came in with the cantaloupe as Linda finished her bath, and she sat on the edge of the bed to eat it. She made a pretty picture, her soft curly hair damp from the water, her cheeks pink with color after the cold shower, her charming blue negligee wrapped about her slender figure. She looked like a lady of leisure enjoying her late breakfast as if it were a regular thing; not an aviation student who arose every morning at seven o'clock and put in a hard day's work at school.

When she entered the living-room, she found her father there waiting for her. She was all in white now, white linen sports suit, and white shoes. He held out his arms invitingly, and she leaped gracefully into his lap.

"Daddy dear!"

"Linda!"

"You didn't mind my not waking up for supper last night, did you?" she asked, after she had kissed him. "I would have been too tired to talk."

"Of course not! It was the wisest thing to do. Sometimes when you force yourself to keep awake after a strain like that, you find you cannot go to sleep again. But you're rested now?"

"Fresh as a freshman," she replied, laughing.

"And I'm mighty proud of my little girl," he added, affectionately, "for passing your examination and flying all the way up here without any mishaps."

Linda's face grew sober, and her eyelids fluttered.

"But – I didn't, Daddy. You – you heard about the necklace?"

"Yes. That was too bad, but I can't see that it was in any way your fault. You'd be a queer flyer if you didn't want to test your knowledge."

"Then you don't really blame me?" she asked eagerly. Her father's approval had always meant so much to her.

"Of course not. It was the boy's carelessness. He agrees with me, and so do his father and mother. I went over to see them last night."

"Ralph hasn't heard anything more, has he?" she asked anxiously. How she longed for news of Ted! But she was afraid to mention his name to her father.

Mr. Carlton, however, answered her unspoken wish.

"No," he said. "We drove over to see Mackay at the hospital this morning, and tried to talk to him. But he wouldn't admit a thing. He became hysterical when we accused him, and the nurse had to ask us to go away. We're as much in the dark as ever."

Linda got up quietly and went over to a chair. Somehow she wouldn't sit on her father's lap when he held such widely different opinions from her own. But Mr. Carlton did not seem to notice that she had gone. He sat perfectly still, thinking.

"You really believe Ted – Mr. Mackay – had a part in the horrible thing?" she asked, dismally.

"I don't think there is a doubt of it."

"But how do you explain the fact that he was shot? Surely, if he and this thief were working together, one wouldn't shoot the other!"

Her father shook his head, and smiled indulgently. What a child she was! What did she know about the wickedness of criminals?

"I'm sorry to tell you, dear, that in spite of that old proverb about there being honor among thieves, there isn't much. They are so utterly selfish and unprincipled that if one finds that his pal is getting the better of him, he doesn't hesitate to wound – and oftentimes kill – the other. If Mackay was making off with the necklace, and this other fellow saw that all his work had been for nothing, one could hardly blame him for shooting… No, I'm afraid that doesn't prove a thing."

Linda sighed; everything seemed hopelessly black for Ted.

"Will they put him in jail?" she asked.

"Whom?"

"Mr. Mackay."

"Of course, when he is well enough. Our detectives will see to that. We can't actually convict him till we have more evidence. But we can force him to tell what he knows about this other thief."