And they might be seriously in need of evidence—especially if the men did decide, as Grace had suggested, to clear everything out of their present location. If they managed to accomplish that immediately, the story Ken and Sandy could tell would seem to have little basis in fact.
Finally the boys were again creeping back to the hole and Sandy was lowering himself carefully over it, until he lay flat on the floor with the camera to his eye.
Ken was close enough so that he could hear the conversation below quite clearly again. Some decision seemed to have been reached.
“All right,” Grace was saying, “then your end will be O.K., Cal. I don’t think anybody could ever trace your purchase of the paper, Barrack. And all we’ve got on hand went to the barge tonight. So when I get rid of this stuff we’ll be ready for any temporary trouble those kids can make.”
“You’re sure the ink can’t be traced?” Cal asked.
“Not a chance,” Barrack said firmly. “I ordered it when I sent in the regular order for the print shop.”
Carefully the boys began to edge back, away from the hole. Ken was already trying to organize in his mind the story he would tell the moment he could get to a phone. The first important thing to impress on the authorities would be—
A dull pounding from downstairs broke in on his train of thought. It was a moment before he realized that someone must be knocking on the Tobacco Mart’s front door.
“Who could that be?” Barrack’s voice betrayed his tenseness.
“You jumped like an old woman,” Grace said. “Just stay quiet in here. I’ll see.” Footsteps moved quickly over the floor, and a door opened.