"Who is killin' this cat," he snarled angrily,—"you or me? I had my grudge agin this theatre jes' a-dunnin' night an' day ter be paid, an' I promised ter help ye ef I bossed the job; ain't that the trade?"
"The shortest way," muttered the "first player," yielding the point. He caught up the can and disappeared in the direction of the green-room.
The stocky figure on the stage was so suddenly joined by another that Ned rubbed his eyes, thinking he saw two where there was but one.
"I got the star's wardrobe out o' the dressin'-room," the newcomer said in an agitated whisper.
"Keep dark," said the thickset man,—he nodded toward the exit where the "first player" had disappeared. "He don't suspicion nothin'; he thinks there ain't a soul here but him an' me. He bargained that nothing should be took! He said that he ain't a thief, an' the goods would get us found out. But you just make the haul anyhow,—but make it sly, for true."
The two rascals went through the dumb show of much merry scorn of the "first player's" stipulations.
"Our pals have tolled off the night watchman,—an' they're workin' at the safe now. Dynamite is the word,—it's a time lock, they think."
This was overwhelming to Ned, who had not dreamed that the receipts were kept in the theatre over night,—a considerable sum must have been realized from that crowded house.
The newcomer was starting off. The thickset scamp beckoned him back. "Did the star leave anything besides the rich costumes?"
"Left gloves."