They went downstairs together and after raiding pantry and icebox, sat down at the kitchen table to a plentiful meal of bread and butter, cold ham, milk and cookies.
“There’s no sense waking the maids,” Bill was talking with his mouth full, “the chauffeur took Dad and Osceola to the city, and those girls are better off asleep. If there’s a row outside with that bunch when we go for the plane, they’d probably raise the roof and start phoning for the cops. And if Mr. Evans had wanted the police to horn in on this business, he’d have got hold of them long ago.”
Charlie finished his milk and attacked the ham again.
“I wonder he took the chance of sending you, though,” Bill went on. “Why couldn’t he have telegraphed me or phoned me? It would have been quicker.”
“Dunno. There’s too much hush and rush about this whole biznai to suit me,” grunted young Evans.
“Well, shake a leg,” advised the older lad. “I’m going into the study to write a note to Osceola, and leave one for Dad and the maids as well. When I come back, we’ve got to vamoose. It’ll be light soon.”
“Why not wait for sunup? Those lads can’t very well stick around after daybreak.”
“No, but if they’ve got a plane handy, they can trail us and make it darned disagreeable at the other end.”
“Well, we haven’t taken off yet—much less arrived. Come on, eat. You get no more food until we reach Clayton, you know.”
Bill faded away toward the front of the house and Charlie started on the cookies.
Ten minutes later, Bill was back again. On his head was a soft leather helmet, while strapped to his waist, the butt of an automatic protruded from its leather holster. He laid another flying helmet, goggles and a small Winchester repeating rifle on the kitchen table.
“Just about,” grunted Charlie, stuffing the remainder of the cookies into his trousers pockets. “Lead on, MacDuffer!”
He slapped the helmet and goggles onto his thatch of red hair and picked up the gun.
“I left lights burning upstairs and in the study,” said Bill. “We’ll fool those guys yet. It’s the cellar for ours, come along.”
He waited at the foot of the stairs and beckoned to Charlie. “Give me your paw. We daren’t show a glim down here.”
Young Evans caught his hand in the inky darkness, and presently Bill stopped again, released his hand and could be heard fumbling with something above their heads.