“Not as I knows of,” he answered. “Them brushes is made special.”
Merriwell hesitated for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
“All right,” he said, “we’ll use those, then. I can pay Lawford well for the use of them after the business is over. Got that straight, now? Have the paste and brushes ready for me at midnight. We’d better take a couple of those small ladders, too. And you are to stay here till we bring the things back. See?”
The fellow nodded.
“Yep. But, say, guv’ner, this here ain’t goin’ to do me no harm with the boss, is it?”
“Not unless you tell him yourself about it,” the Yale man answered. “I promise you no one will ever get it from me, but I’ll be frank with you——”
He paused, and looked inquiringly at the fellow.
“Brown’s me name,” the latter informed him. “Bill Brown.”
“Well, Bill,” Dick continued, “I may as well tell you that if Lawford ever found out that you had made paste for me, and loaned me his brushes, he would probably fire you on the spot. But, as I say, I don’t see how he’s going to find it out. I’ll leave the money for the brushes, and all the rest, in his desk, and he’ll have no way of knowing where it came from.”
Brown hesitated, apparently turning the matter over in his mind. Presently he looked up.