  Linda and Dot both felt terribly depressed, in spite of their luxurious surroundings. Indeed, both girls had showed more spirit on that deserted island in the Atlantic Ocean, where they had been stranded without any plane during the early summer. When both their food and their water supply were limited, and the chances of survival were small. But now there was nothing to do but wait—wait in this strange, lonely city, where their only friends—Mr. Von Goss and Mr. Chase—had turned out to be enemies. And now Mr. Chase was going away, flying south on important business, so that even he would be lost to them. “But you will soon be free,” he had said, after he had heard that Linda had wired for Mr. Eckert. “In time to stop that picture’s being shown, do you think?” inquired Linda. “I understand that the rest of it was completed, and that all that had to be filmed was my double’s part.” “Yes, I believe that’s what Von Goss said. But surely it won’t be released for a month or so. I shouldn’t worry. You do hate publicity, don’t you?” he asked, sympathetically. “I have always tried to shun it,” answered Linda. “But it seems that I am being punished now.” But the young man had gone, and the girls were feeling very blue. “We’ve got to pull ourselves together!” announced Dot, after a few minutes of somber silence. “Let’s step out and go to a show tonight! After all, you paid that thousand dollars bail, and we might as well get some fun out of it.” “True,” admitted Linda. “Not a picture this time. A theatre. I’m sick of movies.” “So am I.” “And let’s make a rule, with a forfeit of five dollars, if either of us mentions that aviatrix, or Sprague, or any other vermin we have met around the studio, we have to pay the other! Is it a go?” “Does that include Mr. Chase?” asked Linda, slyly. Dot poked her companion under the chin. “I suppose not,” she agreed. “You couldn’t exactly describe him as ‘vermin’.... And besides, I can see that you were rather smitten. And did he fall for you? Whew!” Linda blushed. “He is a nice young man, don’t you think so, Dot?” “Of course I do. But poor Ralph! How jealous he’d be, if he only knew!” “Ralph will be furious because I didn’t wire to him to help us out. But after all, he’s only a personal friend, and of course his assertions about my innocence wouldn’t carry much weight.” “We’re agreed, then,” said Dot, as she began to dress for dinner, “that the tabu subjects are Von Goss, movies, Sprague, and your double. At five dollars apiece!” Linda laughed, but she felt much better. Trust Dot to find some fun in every situation, no matter how unpleasant or dangerous it seemed. They were able to get seats at a very good play, and in the excitement of the mystery involved, they forgot all about their own troubles, and had no need to worry about the forfeit. It was lucky indeed that they were able to enjoy their evening, for the next morning held a most unpleasant surprise for them. They had gone for a walk after breakfast and returned to the hotel about eleven o’clock, hoping for some word from Mr. Eckert. The telephone rang and Linda picked it up gaily, expecting it to be the message. But it proved to be a message of a very different sort a summons from a police-court in Los Angeles! “The officer wants you to come downstairs immediately, Miss Carlton,” the operator told her. “I’m going too,” announced Dot, following her companion into the elevator. A uniformed policeman was waiting for Linda in the lobby. He was a rough, uneducated person of the lower class, evidently accustomed to bullying his suspects into submission. He did not return Linda’s feeble “Good morning,” but merely extended a piece of paper with his right hand. “Your bum check!” he snarled. “For bail. You had no right to sign the name of ‘Linda Carlton’ anyhow, but besides that, there ain’t no funds to cover it—even if you say you are the real ‘Linda’.” “No funds!” gasped Linda, staring incredulously at the man. “Why, I keep five thousand dollars in my check account—just to be ready for any kind of emergencies that may come up when I’m flying about the country!” “That’s just the amount that was took out yesterday. By the real Linda Carlton.” His tone was jeering, as if he were enjoying the situation as he would a play. “Oh!” cried Linda. “This is terrible!” “I’ll say it is,” agreed the policeman. “Now get your hat, and come along with me. You’re goin’ to jail.” The girls looked at each other in speechless amazement. This was too dreadful for words. “Let me wire for the money,” suggested Dot, suddenly. “I can get it from my father.” “Do as you like. But this here forger goes to jail—even if she is a pretty girl. That ain’t a gonna help her none now!” “Oh!” The tears came to Linda’s eyes, in spite of her effort to hold them back. She felt dizzy and weak. It was all like a hideous nightmare, from which, try as she might, she could not awaken. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a stifled sob came. Then, with a hopeless gesture of powerlessness, she decided to do as she was told. She turned about desperately and walked towards the elevator like a criminal going to the electric chair. Dot, still trying to think of some way to save the situation, waited, hesitating, breathing hard. It was a tense and horrible moment—until Linda walked right into the arms of her dear old friend, Mr. Eckert! “Linda, I’m here!” he said, putting out his arms to catch her, for he could see that she was blinded by tears. “Dear child, you’re not going to faint?” Linda looked up in a daze, too astonished to believe that he was true. Had her imagination conjured up his kindly presence? But no; Mr. Eckert’s hands were on her shoulders, supporting her, keeping her from falling. And beside him was a large, fine-looking man in a blue uniform. “Oh!” she gasped, in joy and relief, clinging desperately to the elderly man’s hand. “What are you doing to Miss Carlton?” demanded the stranger in uniform, of the policeman. “Hounding her with abuse?” “This here young lady forged a name and passed a bum check,” he whimpered. “What name?” asked the other man. “Claims she’s Linda Carlton, with five thousand bucks in a bank, where she’s already overdrew her account.” “She is Linda Carlton!” announced Mr. Eckert. “I can testify to that—your superior officer, James A. Brenan, can testify to my knowledge, for he knows me well. He is Chief of Police in St. Louis.” “How did you get here so soon, Mr. Eckert?” asked Dot. “We only wired yesterday.” “We started immediately, sensing your trouble. And flew day and night. But I see that we got here just in time.” “Ten minutes later I’d have been wearing prison stripes!” returned Linda, now almost herself again. “Oh, Mr. Eckert, I can never thank you enough.” “I was only too thankful to be of use, my dear child,” said the kind-hearted man. “What shall we do first?” inquired Dot, as the policeman made a move to slip away. “Catch the thief,” announced Chief Brenan. “If she has forged a check for five thousand dollars already, she must have gone away as fast as she could.” He turned to the Los Angeles policeman. “Go and inform your station of this as fast as you can.... And meanwhile, we’ll go straight to the studio of the Apex Film Corporation and find out what we can about her from the director.” The policeman departed, and Linda asked Mr. Eckert whether he weren’t terribly hungry and tired. “Hungry, yes, but I haven’t had time to think about being tired yet. I want to get things all straightened out for you first, before I consider sleeping. We will arrange for a couple of rooms and order a meal before we go to Hollywood.” In an incredibly short time the men reappeared from their rooms and ate a hasty meal that was both breakfast and lunch. Then the whole party, the two girls, and the two older men chartered a car for Culver City. “Won’t it be fun to stick out our tongues at that Sprague insect?” laughed Dot, now enjoying herself hugely. “He was so condescending—so sure that the other girl was the real thing!” “And I’m going to insist that they don’t show the picture under my name!” added Linda. “It’ll serve Mr. Von Goss right. I’m glad he’s losing money. Remember how snippy he was to us yesterday, on the lot?” “He certainly was. Wouldn’t even speak to us!” “He may get his money back when we catch the impostor,” remarked Chief Brenan. “She can’t have had a chance to spend much of it.” “I’ll wager she bought that plane that she was doing stunts with,” observed Linda. “It certainly was speedy. And she’d want to get out of the country as soon as possible.” The short distance to Culver City was covered quickly in the high-powered car. Dot was the first to run into the studio when they arrived. She wanted to have the fun of saying, “I told you so,” to that “fresh Sprig,” as she liked to call him. The same “publicity girl” took their cards. But, though Mr. Von Goss was in, she informed them that Mr. Sprague was no longer with the Apex. “Fired?” asked Dot, hopefully. “No, I believe not. He left yesterday—to be married to Miss Linda Carlton.” “No, he didn’t!” contradicted Dot. “This is Miss Linda Carlton right here, and she’d rather be dead than married to that shrimp. Your actress wasn’t Linda Carlton at all—as we’re just about to prove.” “Really?” remarked the girl, only slightly interested. It was a practice of hers never to frown or show emotion, lest she encourage wrinkles. They passed on in to the director’s office, and Linda introduced the two men and told her story. When she had finished, Mr. Von Goss looked extremely worried, crestfallen, even defeated. For now Linda’s identity was established beyond a doubt. “How then do you account for this license?” he asked, extending the one with the forged signature to Linda. “Sprague’s doing, of course!” cried Dot, before Linda had a chance to answer. “He was in league with that girl. We just heard that they were married.” “But how could he manage these licenses?” demanded Von Goss. “He got hold of a blank somehow, and forged the name. Then when he had the chance to get hold of the real Miss Carlton’s, of course he exchanged them.” The Chief of Police was listening to Dot’s logic with admiration. “You’re a bright girl,” he said. “And you’ve figured it out just about right.” He turned to Linda. “You should never have let your own licenses get out of your hands.” “I had no idea Mr. Sprague was dishonest,” she said. “But the worst part of it is, that now I have to fly with a false license.” “We’ll get yours back when we catch that couple!” promised Von Goss. “Because we’ve got to catch them. Why, I paid her thirty thousand dollars for her part in the picture—and if my picture is not shown, I’ll lose thousands more....” He looked terribly discouraged. The Chief of Police rose. “We must go back now and get to work. Have you any idea, Von Goss, where this couple went, or what kind of plane they flew in?” “I heard Sprague say something about South America for a honeymoon,” the man replied. “He told us to keep his mail for him, till he came back, as he wouldn’t have any definite address. But I haven’t any idea whether they expected to fly, or what kind of plane they used if they did.” “The girl didn’t buy your plane—or steal it?” asked Linda. “No. It’s still out there. We needed it today for some stills.” “What kind of plane did she own when she came to the studio?” “She didn’t own any. She told me that she had left her autogiro at Spring City, and had flown west with a friend.” “And you believed every word of it!” was Dot’s taunt. “And never even asked to see her license, until we showed up and made it necessary.” “It’s all true,” agreed the director. “I’ve been a fool.” “If we only knew what kind of plane, it would be so much easier to follow and catch her,” remarked Linda, sadly. Mr. Von Goss rose from his desk, and followed the group to the door, lingering beside Linda, as if he were trying to get up courage to say something to her. For such a self-possessed man, he seemed unusually nervous. “Miss Carlton,” he said, in a humble tone, “won’t you please do that part of the picture for me?” It seemed strange that a man who could tell stars what to do, should speak so deferentially to Linda. “Oh, no, Mr. Von Goss,” she replied immediately. “I couldn’t possibly. I’m all keyed up for a chase. I want to catch this girl, if it’s the last thing I ever do!” “Then let me pay you, say fifty thousand dollars for the use of your name, and let me show the picture as it is. Nobody would ever guess that it isn’t you. For she does look astonishingly like you.” “Wouldn’t I love to see that girl!” said Dot. Again Linda shook her head. “I don’t want my name in moving-pictures, Mr. Von Goss,” she said with quiet determination. “Besides, I shouldn’t like people to think I flew in the dangerous, spectacular way that girl did. It is harmful to the whole cause of aviation. No; you cannot use my name in connection with your picture.” Von Goss knew that she meant what she said, and there was no use of any further argument. But he was in a terrible fix, and he didn’t know how to get out of it without losing a great deal of money. Certainly he couldn’t use the name of the girl—whatever it was—for when she was caught, the whole world would know that she was a criminal. A solution of his problem, however, suddenly suggested itself to Linda. “I have it, Mr. Von Goss!” she cried, turning about. “Use Ann Harding! She’s a flier, and a popular actress besides. She can do the stunts, and probably will prove more of a drawing card to the public than I could hope to be.” “Ann Harding!” repeated the man. “But she belongs to another studio.” “Borrow her! Pay her! You’ll save your picture.” “I believe you’re right, Miss Carlton,” he admitted, with a sigh of relief. “That ought to save the situation.” The four visitors left the studio and hurried in their car back to the hotel. But no news of the couple had been received by any of the Los Angeles police. Linda therefore determined to pack a box of supplies and to set out, that very afternoon, on the search, inquiring at the airports they passed as they flew towards Mexico. Just before sitting down to her late lunch with Dot, she wired the news to her aunt, informing her of her plans, and asking that additional funds be put into her checking account. Then she called the airport on the telephone. “This is Linda Carlton,” she said. “I want you to have my autogiro in readiness for a long trip. Plenty of gas and oil. I will call for it inside of an hour.” “Linda Carlton?” repeated the voice at the other end of the wire. “Autogiro?... Must be some mistake.... Miss Carlton flew away in her autogiro last night, about eight o’clock. She paid the bill, and said she wouldn’t be back!” |
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