"All right, Dick. It shall be ready for them."
"Thank you," said Dick, and left the shop.
"I wonder now," mused the shopkeeper, "what the game is. Something queer, by the youngster's showing. But he's an honest little chap, and sharp as a knife. Well, I'll put the shilling away."
Looking round, he discovered an empty tobacco tin, in which he placed the coin, and then locked it up in one of the drawers.
"No doubt the youngster will be back again, presently," he said to himself, "and I shall hear what it's all about. It's very curious, anyhow."
Meanwhile Dick, hot and flustered, was threading his way through the side street. He was too excited to steer very cautiously, but, after numerous bumps and joltings, he found himself at the top, where the traffic was less dense.
"Hullo, Dick Boden; you ought to be home and abed! There's your mother down the road with a cane looking for you." And Curly Peters, who stood on the edge of the curb puffing away at a cigarette, laughed boisterously.
Dick did not answer, but, being afraid of arousing suspicion, he walked very leisurely till he had turned the corner and was out of sight. Then he ran at his topmost speed, reaching the stationer's shop breathless and exhausted. He was approaching the door to knock when he noticed, through the side window, that the shop was brilliantly lit.
"Broad must have returned," thought he, "and perhaps brought a policeman. I wonder if they are searching Jim."
He tried to peer in, but could see nothing. Then, crouching close to the door, he listened. All was still; he could hear no sound.