  The three girls sat silently for a few minutes after the men had left. They heard the car start, and Fanny heaved a sigh of relief. “Of course you hate me,” she said, in a pathetic voice, turning her face towards Linda. “But I don’t believe you can hate me half so much as I hate Les!” Both Linda and Dot looked at the girl in surprise. “But you didn’t have to marry him!” Dot pointed out. “I know. But I hadn’t found him out then. I—I didn’t know anybody could be so awful!” Linda stood up. “Suppose,” she suggested, “we go outside where it is so much more beautiful—and hear your story, Fanny. I’d like to know just what did lead up to your pretending to be me.” The girl jumped to her feet. She didn’t seem sick at all now; in all probability it had only been nerves. “Wait,” she said. “I want to get you something first.” And she disappeared into the bedroom. In a moment she returned, carrying a heavy bag in her hands. “It’s your money, Linda,” she said. “That check I cashed. Les made me get it in gold—I guess he didn’t want the bank numbers traced. Anyhow, I hid it, and never let him have it.” And she dropped the bag at Linda’s feet. “Why, thank you, Fanny,” said Linda, in surprise. “I’ll just leave it here till Mr. Chase comes back for us.” “Aren’t you going to count it?” “Oh, no. I believe you,” replied Linda. Tears came into Fanny’s eyes. She seized Linda’s hand gratefully. “It’s sweet of you to say that,” she said. “But you better not leave it here just the same. You can’t trust those native boys.” “True,” admitted Dot, and picking it up, she carried it for Linda out of the bungalow. The girls walked along the path and settled themselves on the ground amongst the bright flowers and soft ferns. Now that Fanny had stopped crying, it was astonishing how much she resembled Linda. Both Linda and Dot watched her intently, eager to hear her version of the story. “Well,” she began, finally, “I’ll tell you first of all that I’m an orphan. I was brought up in a children’s home—I don’t remember my parents at all. But I had a pretty good education, and took a business course after I finished high school. My first job was with an airplane construction company.” “Yon mean you had a flying job?” interrupted Linda, with interest. “No. I was a stenographer. But the boss did give me a chance to learn to fly—on the side. But there wasn’t any hope of a job in aviation—I just worked inside the office for twenty-five dollars a week. And, like every other girl in the world, I never had enough money.” “Where did you work?” asked Dot. “What city, I mean?” “San Francisco. That was the trouble, I suppose. Too near Hollywood. I got the craze to go into pictures. Everybody told me I was pretty—and other girls succeeded—so why shouldn’t I?” “Naturally,” commented Dot. “Well, I had some money saved up,” continued Fanny, “and I tried to register at all the studios as an extra. But I soon learned how impossible it is to get into the movies in times like these. I couldn’t land a thing—not even a part in a crowd!” “I’ve heard they’re using old actresses and actors for those parts—people who used to be stars—and even ex-directors,” remarked Linda. “It’s true! And even some of those people can’t get anything at all! People with years of experience go absolutely broke!... Well, my money dwindled and dwindled until I finally met Mr. Sprague. Not in a studio—but at a party. That was last June—only a little while after you made your famous Atlantic Ocean flight.” Linda nodded, wondering whose idea the masquerade had been. She asked the question. “It was Mr. Sprague’s,” replied Fanny. “He saw the resemblance immediately to your newspaper pictures, and when he found out I could fly a plane, he told me I ought to cash in on it. I thought he was only joking, but he told me he was serious, and explained how you had refused movie contracts at enormous salaries.... Well, he kept after me, and when I found that I wasn’t getting any parts, and that my money was all gone and even my old job in San Francisco, I gave in and promised to try it. “Les planned everything—even rehearsed with me how I was to talk to Mr. Von Goss. And it was he who pushed through the aviation picture. “Mr. Von Goss was lovely—he never asked me for any proofs of my identity at all, just signed me up for the picture, and it was Les who made me insist on the enormous salary. I acted stubborn, like Greta Garbo, and I got it. “And then Les proposed to me. Told me that he’d invest my money, and give up his job at the studio and come over here to Hawaii to live after we were married. He said he had a plantation here, and that I’d never be discovered as the girl who pretended to be Linda Carlton. Oh, Les can be very charming if he tries, and he made me think we’d live on this island paradise in a perpetual honeymoon.” “Then you had no idea that he was also involved in anything that was crooked?” asked Linda. “No. Absolutely none. I just thought that the masquerade was a clever trick, that wouldn’t really hurt anybody, because you had refused movie contracts.... Well, to get back to the story.... Everything went well till you girls appeared. Of course we were prepared for that—Les had thought it all out ahead of time, in case you ever did show up. I came back to Los Angeles, as you know, in a hired plane, and was just about to land when Les gave me the pre-arranged signal not to come down. You remember—waving his hat on the field?” Linda nodded, though she had hardly noticed it at the time. “I flew off and landed an hour later at Culver City. And he pushed the rehearsals right through, and the next morning he told me to go right to the Los Angeles airport and demand your autogiro. We’d only borrow it, he said, to get away. I believed him, and did it, for I was anxious to be married and out of the country. We flew to Mexico, as you know, and got married. “And I guess you know the rest. How we circled about you when we found out you were chasing us—and how we changed planes. But you don’t know that Les made me fly that Sky Rocket at the point of a pistol. He seemed to change then and there into a demon, and he had me frightened to death. Of course I realized what a horrible mistake it had been to marry him. “Then he seemed nice again when we sailed on that boat, but when I actually saw you girls fly over the Pacific Ocean, it was too much for me. We recognized the Sky Rocket, and knew you were after us. I wanted to give up then, but Les said nobody would ever find us here at Lanai....” “But didn’t you know that he was a counterfeiter, after you lived here?” “No, of course not. I never knew till this afternoon. Of course I’d often seen that man before—the one that the detective caught—but I thought he was just the overseer. Les has always been away from here most of the time, so he needed somebody to manage the plantation.” “Is there much of a plantation?” asked Linda, suspiciously. “I guess not,” admitted Fanny. “We do raise a few pineapples. But I never saw any great quantities. And there are only a couple of native boys working here.” “Well, you won’t have to worry about your marriage, anyhow. So long as Sprague married you under a false name, and in Mexico besides, I guess it can easily be annulled. You won’t have to see him again.” Fanny was silent, worn out with the tension of telling her story. Stretching back, she buried her face in the ferns. Linda and Dot looked at each other in hopeless dismay. Here was the girl whom Linda had threatened to prosecute to the uttermost, completely in her power, and she felt only sympathy for her! “You poor kid!” said Dot, feelingly, as if Fanny were years younger than she was. “Oh, I know it’s my own fault,” said Fanny, with a suppressed sob. “It was acting a lie in the beginning. But I never dreamed it would lead to anything like this. I thought if you—the real Linda Carlton—ever did appear, I’d just hand over the money, and maybe you’d give me back part of it for my work in the picture.” “I suppose,” said Linda, “that we have to learn for ourselves that deceit never pays. But somehow, I can’t be hard on you, Fanny. And I’ll tell you why. It’s because of the very first thing you told us—that you are an orphan. It’s so much more difficult if you haven’t parents to teach you. I—haven’t a mother—but I have a wonderful father and a loving aunt.... So, somehow, I just feel as if I hadn’t the right to judge you....” Without raising her head from the ground, Fanny groped blindly for Linda’s hand. And found it and pressed it gratefully. The sound of a motor in the distance made the girls glance towards the lane. The car was returning. “What are you going to do with me?” asked Fanny, plaintively. “Take you with us, of course,” replied Linda. “You can fly with Mr. Chase.” “And—when we get to Honolulu—shall I have to go to jail?” Linda hesitated a moment and looked at Dot. But her companion, usually so relentless in seeing that justice was done, had evidently softened too. She, also, felt a great sympathy for Fanny. “I don’t think so,” said Linda. “I think you’ve suffered enough, Fanny. You’ve returned my money, and both planes, and if you’ll return Mr. Von Goss’s—” “I can’t!” interrupted the girl. “Les took that.” “Well, he’ll be made to return it. So—if you’ll promise to be good, I think we’ll let you go free—if Mr. Chase can fix it up with the police.” The girl’s blue eyes opened wide with appreciation. “You really mean that, Linda?” “Yes, I do.” “Oh, you are wonderful! So generous! So clever, too!” She lowered her eyelids. “And to think I ever dared to pretend I could be you!” Linda flushed in embarrassment at this praise—from the girl she had been regarding as her worst enemy. Luckily she did not need to say anything, for the car had stopped now, and Jardin, who had returned alone, was getting out. “I left Chase with the two prisoners,” he explained. “Now you girls climb in.” “Oughtn’t we to say something to the native boys who work here?” asked Fanny. “I’ll come back and talk to them later,” replied Jardin. “After Long tells me what he wants to do with the plantation.” The ride back to the beach consumed only fifteen minutes, but Linda realized when she got there that the afternoon was gone. So much time had been spent at the plantation, waiting around, first for Sprague, and then for the return of Jardin. Though it was still bright sunlight, her watch indicated six o’clock. “We had better send a wireless to our hostess,” she said to Dot. “To let her know that we can’t be back in time for dinner.” Her chum nodded dismally. Another festivity passed up! But it had been worth while this time, for at last their purpose was accomplished. Linda proceeded to send the wireless from the Sky Rocket, and then returned to the agent’s shack, where Chase was still sitting. “Will you take Fanny,” she asked, “and when you get to Honolulu see whether you can have that warrant for her arrest nullified? We are dropping the charges.” The young detective stared at Linda in incredulous amazement. “You don’t really mean it?” he gasped. Linda laughed. “I do, though. Fanny returned the money—and is sorry, so we’re forgiving her. That’s all there is to it.” “You stand there and tell me you’re letting that girl off, after flying four thousand miles, over land and ocean, to capture her?” he demanded. Linda nodded. “But why?” “Because Linda’s a Christian!” retorted Dot, exasperated at the delay. “But I warn you, Bert, I won’t show Christian spirit towards you, if you don’t stop talking and get a move on pretty soon. Do you realize we’re starved—and we’ve got almost two hours’ flight before we get any food?” Chase grinned, and started towards the door. “If you’re willing to wait an hour,” suggested Jardin, “I can take you all to my bungalow for supper.” “No, thank you, Mr. Jardin,” replied Linda. “We want to be on our way—and fly while it is light. We’ll set off immediately. Fanny, you go with Mr. Chase. Come on, everybody!” “What’s your other name, Fanny?” asked Chase, as the group walked along the beach to the planes. “Preston,” replied the girl, with a sigh of relief at the thought of dropping the name of Sprague—or Long—forever. The Sky Rocket took off first, and five minutes later Chase’s monoplane left the island. Within sight of each other, the two planes flew across the Pacific in the glorious light of the sunset, and arrived at the Honolulu airport without any disaster, a little after eight o’clock. |
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