"Maybe that cop wasn't the idiot he seemed, eh?" Johnson Boller asked.
"I don't understand it," Anthony said angrily. "I—David!"
The boy merely sighed in his sleep and turned on his back.
"David!" Johnson Boller snapped, thrusting a hard forefinger directly into the pit of David's stomach.
"Good gracious!" gasped David Prentiss, sitting up and staring about with eyes wide open. "What—I must have been asleep and——"
Anthony's gaze was growing keener and angrier by the second.
"Never mind that artistic amazement, David," he said sourly. "What were you trying to do?"
"Trying?" echoed David. "To do?"
"Those are Wilkins's clothes. Where did you get them?"
"I don't know."