[CHAPTER VI—IN THE ENEMY’S TOILS]
“Look here,” said Mr. Temple, “you boys have done a fine stroke of business for the government today. Suppose you play a little tonight?”
They were finishing dinner at a famous restaurant. All about them were tables with gay little parties. The concealed orchestra was playing a popular air. Mr. Temple leaned back, sighed comfortably and lighted a cigar. The boys went on with their dessert.
“It was a good stroke of business, Dad, wasn’t it?” said Bob. “Getting that old inventor with his sound detector at just the right moment, and catching Inspector Burton before he left for the south. With that invention, he ought to be able to locate the smugglers’ radio station.”
“Sh, Bob, not so loud,” warned Frank. “Somebody might hear us.”
All looked around furtively. They occupied a separate table, however, and there was none other near enough for its occupants to overhear their conversation.
“For my part,” said Jack, “I’m sorry we aren’t going to be in on the outcome of this business.”
“Same here,” said Frank. “Here we go and start the ball to rolling, and then have to drop out, without a chance to see where it rolls to.”
“Hard luck,” agreed Bob. “That’s what it is.”
Mr. Temple shook his head.