“Oh!” Joan’s mouth dropped open. “I wonder,” she mused. “Say, Amy, you’ve said something. I believe he is a spy.”
Amy had no notion of what the man could be spying for, but Joan’s eager mind was grasping at ideas. Bits of Tim’s conversation about the political candidate came to her—the importance of not having mistakes in the Journal just at this time. That man, Dummy, had been hired to spy upon the Journal and to see that somehow mistakes were made, mistakes that would give the Journal that “black eye” that Tim talked about; mistakes that would eventually elect the Star’s candidate. She was a little hazy about how it worked. But of course, a deaf man had been chosen because no one would bother to argue much with a deaf person. It was too much trouble to write everything.
“I’ve read of things like that,” admitted Chub, when she had explained her ideas. “We’ll be detectives,” he announced. “And we’ll be on the watch for developments. I’ve a peachy book, How to Be a Detective.”
“Maybe—maybe it’s like this,” ideas came to Joan. “Maybe Dummy wants to be a reporter himself and is jealous of Tim’s job. Maybe he doesn’t like it because Tim’s only seventeen and a full-fledged reporter. That’s why he makes the mistakes look like Tim’s. Still, I can’t help but like Dummy. He’s so kind and mild. But he is sort of spooky, somehow.”
Tim came to the window behind them now.
“Jo,” his voice was hoarse and scared-sounding. “Come in here. Mr. Albert Johnson wants to talk to you.”
Joan jumped off the sill to the soft grass, and stood for a moment trying not to tremble while she looked down at Em, who had just come up and was sniffing at her ankles. What was going to happen, now?
“Don’t let ’em scare you, Jo.” Chub’s grimy hand was pressing hers. “The Journal’s got insurance that takes care of libel suits.”
Libel suits. Oh, dear, that had a dreadful sound. Would Uncle John fire Tim for her mistake—if it had been a mistake?
“All right, Tim, I’m coming,” she called in a voice, that in spite of her, trembled, as she came in out of the sunshine, in through the window of the Journal office to meet Mr. Albert Johnson.