“Okey, Joe. Keep this fellow covered while I look around.”
He took his gun out of his pocket and let his eyes wander about the cellar. He spied the bundle of rags. Levelling the gun at it, he cried, “If you’re hiding there behind the rags, you better come out or I’ll shoot.”
Paul thought he had better not take any chances and slowly he rose, with his hands above his head. Joe cried, “I think that’s the guy the boss and I caught the other day and I socked him.”
Pete demanded, “Are there any more of you in here?”
Paul shook his head. Out of the corner of their eyes, the boys glanced at each other. Both were pale and tense, but not frightened. Pete raised his fist threateningly and scowled, “If you’re lying, I’ll knock your block off.”
Paul said, “If you don’t believe me why don’t you look around and see for yourself.”
That seemed to satisfy the gangster and he lowered his arm. “What are you doing here?” he again demanded.
“We came upon the trap door by accident,” replied Paul undaunted, “and we thought we would look and see what it was all about.”
“You’re sure you don’t know any more than that?”
“What could we know that you don’t want us to know?” asked Paul.