They were all in the back room, within the circle of light that illuminated the table on which fresh green bills were still scattered. Barrack and Grace, both with guns, kept the boys between them.
“Cal!” Grace called.
“Coming!” The man spoke in a mumble, and when he appeared at the rear door a moment later he was shaking his head dazedly. But his head jerked up and his big hand balled into a fist when he saw the boys. He came toward them in a rush.
“Shut that door!” Grace’s voice stopped him.
Cal sketched a jab with his fist. “Just let me—!”
“I said shut that door.”
“O.K.” Cal turned and slammed the back door shut with a crash.
“Sit down—you two,” Grace ordered the boys. “And put your hands flat on the table.”
“Look here!” Sandy managed to get a note of angry innocence into his voice. “I don’t know what you—”
“Quiet.” Barrack added weight to the command with a prod of his gun.