"No worse than learning to fly, is it?"
"Fifty-fifty, I should say."
"That's settled, then. What I can't understand is why you didn't corral
that gang long before this--or at least put the police on to them, if
you knew where they were all the time."
"But that's just it--they haven't been in the house since the robbery.
I've driven up there several times and reconnoitered from the air as
well."
"Then what makes you think you'll corner the gang at the house now?"
The car turned in the Dixon's drive and came to a stop by the side
entrance.
"You'll have to wait till the next chapter for that," he laughed. "Time
is worth more than money now. I'll tell you all about it when we get
going again. Beat it upstairs now and change that light dress for
breeches and a dark sweater or coat. I'll run across the road for
something more suitable and less conspicuous than white flannels."
"O.K." Dorothy sprang out of the car. "Don't forget our armory."
"Not a chance. Now forget the prinking and make it snappy," he sang out,
backing down the driveway.
_Chapter XII_