“Cat!” said Betty and flew.

Dorothy went to the door and listened. If the two men were still outside, they gave no sign of their presence. Nothing came to her ears through the panels but the howl of the storm.

Then she heard footsteps running down the stairs from the second story and switched her flashlight on George. He carried a double barreled shotgun in the hollow of his arm.

“Howdy!” he greeted her enthusiastically. “You know, I can never thank you girls enough for all you’ve done. Gosh! You’re a couple of heroes, all right—I mean heroines. When I saw Betty—I mean, Miss Mayo,” he amended quickly with an embarrassed grin, “come sprinting into the library and begin to cut me loose, why I just couldn’t believe my eyes!”

“Some . . . Read More