“What is it?” whispered Jerry.
For answer Bob pointed toward a shed at the side of the house. In it could be seen a light gleaming.
“Are they in there?” asked Jerry.
“No, but some one’s motor-cycle is,” replied Bob.
Foot by foot the three boys made toward the dark and deserted house. They had circled half way around it, and, coming to the rear, were suddenly brought to a halt by a sliver of light shooting out from some crack.
“Hold on!” exclaimed Bob.
They stopped and looked toward the light. It came from the kitchen window, which was closed by broken shutters through a splintered slat of which the gleam came. On tip-toes the three boys crept under the window. They peered into the room, and the sight that met their eyes made them start in surprise.
Seated around a rough table, on which stood a lighted candle stuck in a bottle, were three figures. One was Bill Berry, the other was a stranger and the third was Noddy Nixon. The stranger was holding a pistol to Noddy’s head, and seemed to be threatening him.
Bill Berry was looking on, and taking no part in the proceedings, evidently. Then, as the boys watched, they saw Noddy, plainly in fear of the man with the weapon, pull from his pocket a roll of bills.