“No, I don’t. Do you, Bob?”
“Do you think, Tom Flannery, that a detective is goin’ to tell all he knows—is goin’ to give away the game before it’s played?” said Bob, with feigned displeasure.
He asked this question to evade the one put to him.
“I thought they always told them as was in the secret, don’t they?”
“Well, I must say you have some of the ignorantest ideas of any boy I ever see,” said Bob, with assumed surprise.
Young Flannery looked sad, and made no reply.
“The trouble with you, Tom, is that you worry too much,” continued the juvenile detective.
“I ain’t worryin’, Bob. What made you think that? I only wanted to know what’s the racket, an’ what I’ve got to do.”
“Well, you s’pose I bro’t you up here to do somethin’, don’t you?”
“Of course you did, Bob. But what is it? That’s what I want to know.”