Loveland read the communication, and handed it to Ed Binney, who was passing. Ed gave a long, low whistle, which set him coughing again, and said, "Whew! This is the last straw, isn't it?"
"Why?" asked Loveland.
"Don't you see? Someone's put the author on to us. You know we're pirates—regular play-snatchers, don't you?"
"Yes," replied Val. "Jacobus initiated me into the mysteries. But what can they do to us?"
"There's a big fine for the offence."
Loveland laughed. "I wish Mr. Cremer joy of it."
"Oh, that's all very well, but if he cuts up rough, he can make us a lot of trouble, I'm afraid, though I don't know much about such things. I only know we were always running the risk; but in these small towns there ain't much danger, as the shows don't get noticed by the dramatic papers. I believe Jacobus was never caught. But we're copped this time, sure enough. I wouldn't go into the lion's den, if I was you. Let the lion come to us, at the hotel—if he doesn't find out beforehand that we wouldn't make a meal worth eating."
"Meanwhile, perhaps, he'll have the police 'attach' the luggage or something," argued Loveland. "Heaven knows, I haven't got much; but the rest of you have, and you can't afford to lose it. No, I'll go and face the music. Perhaps when Cremer's agent understands the fix we're in, he'll let us down easy."
"Well, maybe you're right," Binney agreed. "But it seems a shame you should have to stand up and be shot at alone."
Loveland laughed dubiously. "I'm riddled with bullets already. I'll wipe the paint off my face, and go tell the fellow to aim straight and have done with it."