"How do you know that?" asked Peter with interest.
"Where would he keep it?" sneered Hawk. "In his business papers for 'zecutors to look over?"
"And where's yours?" asked Peter.
He hoped for some motion of Kennedy's fingers to betray its whereabouts, but the man only poured out another drink and leered at Peter unpleasantly.
"That'sh my business," he said with a sneer.
"Oh. Is it? I thought I was to have a hand in this."
Kennedy grinned.
"Y'are. Your job is t' get other paper from McGuire's safe. And then we'll have fortune in—hic—nutshell."
The man wasn't as drunk as he seemed. Peter shrugged.
"I see. I've got to turn burglar to join your little criminal society. Suppose I refuse?"