and upon her face.

"Good gracious, I'll get moonstruck," she thought, and throwing on a wrap
she went to the window to pull down the shade which had been raised to
admit the cool air.

The window commanded a view of the workshop, in which the Golden
Butterfly was kept, and Peggy, as she looked out, was astonished to see
that the door of the work shop which housed the precious craft was open.

"Goodness!" thought the girl, "how careless of whoever left it that way.
The night air will rust the stay-wires and the steel parts of the motor
terribly. I guess I had better slip downstairs and close it."

Partially dressing herself the girl noiselessly tiptoed down the stairs
and out into the moonlit night.

For one instant she was startled as she thought she saw a dark form dodge
swiftly behind a corner of the workshop as she appeared.

"I must be getting as nervous as poor Roy when the mule frightened him
down the well," she thought to herself as she advanced toward the shed.
Reaching it she raised her hand to shut the door when, to her
astonishment, she discovered that it had apparently been locked,--at
least a broken bit of the padlock dangling from the portal seemed to
indicate this.

"Somebody's filed that through," was Peggy's thought. But before she
could make any further investigation a pair of hands grasped her from
behind, pinioning her arms to her side. At the same instant an old coat
was flung over her head and pulled close, stifling her outcries.

"We won't hurt you if you keep quiet," hissed a voice in her ear, "but if
you don't, look out for trouble."

"What are you going to do?" cried Peggy, through the muffling medium of
the coat.

"You'll soon find out," was the rejoinder. "Jukes, bring her inside the
shed and keep her quiet."

Jukes! The name struck a familiar chord in Peggy's memory. She knew now
why the face and form of the man hanging about Fanning's "Phantom" hangar
at the aviation field had seemed so familiar to her. It _was_ Jukes Dade,
the man her father had peremptorily discharged. Peggy could not repress a
shudder as she thought of the desperate character of the man.

Suddenly, as her captors half dragged, half carried her into the
workshop, her body grew limp, and she fell in an insensible heap forward.
She would have struck the ground had not a pair of hands caught her.

"She's fainted," cried Jukes, alarmedly.

"So much the better," growled out his companion; "she won't give us an