CHAPTER XXXI

THE TRAIL LEADS NORTH

Johnny Thompson was back at the shack in the city. Drew Lane and Tom Howe were there. So too was “The Ferret,” and two heavy-set Federal men. But the center of attention was a certain slim miss in a plain, dark gray suit—Joyce Mills.

“I have the whole story,” she said impressively, as the last man to arrive drew up a chair. “The trail leads north to the woods and lakes of Michigan.”

“Did he tell you where the loot is hidden?” It was a Federal man who spoke.

“He did not, because he could not. He didn’t know. He gave the package to another man.”

“And where is he now?”

Joyce Mills shrugged her shoulders. “How should I know? In the city somewhere.”

“You let him go!” The Federal man’s tone held guarded scorn.

“I did. On his own word that he would not leave the city, nor get in touch with those in the north woods.”

“His word!” The Federal man’s scorn was unveiled.

“Yes, his word!” The girl’s black eyes flashed. “And if you wish to use the information I have, you will treat me as a lady should be treated!”

The Federal man recoiled. For a moment there was silence in the room.

“I—I—” The pompous Federal man unbent. “I apologize. Please go on.”

“That man,” Joyce Mills said slowly, “the one with one ear gone, was a stool pigeon for my father. My father has things on him that would send him to prison for years or get him shot in twenty-four hours. He told me the whole truth. He did not dare do otherwise. The trail leads north. He does not know where the package is. Those who do are up there. We must get those men.”

Those who listened knew well enough the men she meant; knew, too, that they were dangerous characters. Yet there was not one of them who was not eager to follow her into the forest. For now, at last, they felt themselves close to the end of the trail. Not one of them questioned this slim girl’s statement that she had, in a manner all her own, discovered the whereabouts of the earless one and obtained from him the full story of how Curlie Carson was forced to earth in his Air Mail plane and later robbed of his priceless package. Drew Lane and Tom Howe would be vindicated. They would have a new deal. Curlie Carson’s name would be cleared. The city they loved would be freed from a dangerous band of outlaws.

“Lead on!” Drew Lane’s tone was impressive. “We will follow.”

So, one by one, with a slim girl in the lead, they filed out of the shack.