“How’s he making it, Jimmy?”
“Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he’s all right, I guess,” responded that brisk optimist. “They got any theory about the robber?”
“They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too—only it isn’t true,” said Billy in a low and guarded tone. “They’ll tell you. I haven’t got time. See here—if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you keep it to yourself?”
“Mum as a sack of clams!” said Jimmy.
“Look at this a minute!” Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass on the inner sill. “Got that? Then I’ll dust it off. This is a case for your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!” He indicated the opening where the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed his finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.
“Cut out from the inside—then carried out there? A frame-up?”
“Exactly. But I don’t want anybody else to size it up for a frame-up—not now.”
“But,” said Jimmy good-naturedly, “I’d ’a’ seen all that myself after a little if you hadn’t ’a’ showed me.”
“Yes,” said Billy dryly; “and then told somebody! That’s why I brushed the glass-dust off. I’ve got inside information—some that I’m going to share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!”
“Trot it out!”