"So the sneak wanted to pay you to help him in some dirty sort of work?" demanded Dave, his dark eyes ablaze with disgust.
"I imagine it must have been dirty work, since Dexter had planned it out," Dick admitted, smiling.
"The hound! But then, see here, Dick; if Dexter wanted you to help him in anything of that sort, it means that he's going to try to bother that poor wife of his again."
"It looks that way, Dave."
"Then we ought to warn Mrs. Dexter, so that she can be on her guard against the worthless rascal."
"I've been thinking of that, Dave. Yes; I'm sure we must go and give Mrs. Dexter a hint. It wouldn't be right not to tell her of what may be ahead of her."
"We might go around to her house to-morrow afternoon after school, eh?" proposed Greg.
"Football practice to-morrow afternoon," retorted Dave Darrin dryly.
"Besides, to-morrow afternoon might be too late," urged Dick. "Fellows, when we have a message like this, which may be of great importance to some other human being, there's no time for doing the errand like—now!"
"That's right, too," approved Dave. "It won't take us more than five minutes to reach Mrs. Dexter's house. Let's head for there at the next corner?"