"They're printing counterfeit money!" whispered Frank.
Joe nodded. A tingling excitement possessed them. In spite of the fact that they knew the bills were counterfeit there was something fascinating in the sight of those hundreds of crisp, green bills.
Their view of the room was limited, but by moving from side to side they were gradually able to take in all the details of the little chamber. Above the constant rumble of the press they could hear the voices of three men.
"Once we get this shipment sent out we'll be on easy street," said Uncle Dock.
"If we can get it all placed," grumbled Markel.
"We'll get it placed all right," said the other man. "We haven't had any trouble so far. Burgess and his crowd have put over their part of the deal pretty well."
"It'd be better if they'd stay away from Bayport," said Markel. "First thing we know, they'll be figuring the money is coming from here."
"Why should they?" said Uncle Dock. "It's being sent around to the other towns as well as Bayport."
"That fool Paul Blum mighty near gave the game away."
"He can't say anything. He doesn't know where the stuff is coming from. I think he has an idea we're round the mill, but he isn't sure. He won't give us away."