Alex took him by the shoulder and drew him back as he started off.
“You’ll obey orders and remain here,” he said. “We can stand in the doorway and look out.”
“I know it’s Jule!” prophesied Case. “He’s been out after the thief, and has been attacked. Perhaps he’s brought the money back with him, and that’s why they’re attacking him.”
“If it is Jule, and he comes in without mentioning the loss of the money, don’t you say a word to him about it! What’s the use, if he doesn’t know, of telling him about it to-night? Let the kid get one more night’s sleep before he knows what’s happened!”
“All right,” Case answered, “and perhaps we can tell by the way he acts whether he’s the—whether he knows anything about it or not.”
“Don’t you say it!” warned Alex. “Don’t you ever look at Jule with suspicion in your face! He’s the one that will lose most by this, and you just keep your thoughts and your sneers to yourself.”
“I never——”
“Oh, I know,” Alex hastened to say, as they waited, anxiously, in the doorway, the rain beating in on their uncovered heads, “I know you don’t really believe anything wrong about Jule. You’d fight for him if anyone said there was, just as quick as I would. It is only your grouchy way of looking at things. You go and imagine the very worst that can ever happen, and then try to make yourself believe that is the way of it!”
Case was about to tell Alex how right he was in his analysis of his character, how thankful he was that he was so well understood, when a call came from some distance up the street.
“That’s Clay!” Alex exclaimed.