“I—­I—­you’ll never forgive me, any of you—­I was asleep.”

“Asleep!  Oh, Jimsy!”

There was a world of reproach in Jess’s voice.  But Peggy interrupted her.

“How was it, Jimsy?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know.  I give you my word I don’t know.”

Jimsy’s voice held a world of self-reproach.

“I was reading,” he went on, hurrying over the words as if anxious to get his confession over with, “that book of Grotz’s on monoplane navigation.  I felt sleepy and—­and the next thing I knew I woke up to hear you pounding on the door and shouting.”

“A good thing the young ladies found me,” put in the policeman; “shure I was after laughing at them at first, but then, begorry, I decided to come along with them.  It’s glad I am that I did.”

“Who can have done this?” asked Roy, who had not a word of reproach for his chum, although Jimsy had failed dismally in a position of trust.

“Begorry, they might have burned you alive!” cried the policeman indignantly.

“No question about that,” rejoined Roy; “it was a diabolical plot.  Who could have attempted such a thing?”

“Wait till I call up and have detectives sent down here,” said Officer McCarthy.  “I’m after thinking this is too deep for us to solve.”

Nevertheless, each of that little group but the policeman had his or her own idea on the matter.

CHAPTER XI.

A MEAN REVENGE!

The result of the telephone call was a request to call at the Police Headquarters of the little town and give a detailed account of the affair.

“Gracious!  I should think that the only way to get a clue would be to send a detective down here,” exclaimed Peggy, on receipt of this information.

“We have our own ways of doing them things, miss,” rejoined the policeman with dignity.

Then there being nothing for it but to obey instructions of the authorities, they all set out for the police station.  They were half way there when Jimsy recollected that they had left the aeroplanes unguarded.

“’Twill make no difference at all at all,” declared the policeman; “shure it’s too late for anyone to be about.”

“It wasn’t too late for them to set that fire though,” rejoined Roy in a low voice.

At police headquarters they were received by two sleepy-looking officials who questioned them at length and said they would be at the stable in the morning to hunt for clews.

“Why not go after them now, while the trail is hot?” inquired Jimsy.

“We have our own ways of doing these things, young man,” was the reply, delivered with ponderous dignity.

“Well, we might as well go to bed and get a few hours’ sleep anyhow,” suggested Roy; “I can hardly keep my eyes open.  How about you, Jimsy?”

“I—­I—­I’ve had some sleep already you know,” rejoined Jimsy, reddening.