“Stop that!” said David. He took up Wally’s right hand and looked at it. He nodded at the purple stain he saw there. “Where is it?” he asked.
“Where’s what?” chattered Wally.
“You know. The envelope—my plans.”
“How do I know?” cried Wally shrilly. “You think I took them? Well, I didn’t. What would I want with your plans? Let go of me!” He pushed at David’s hand. It was a grip of steel. “Let go, I tell you! I want to go down!”
“No,” said David. “Where is the envelope, Cram? You know.”
“I don’t know anything about it, you fool!” cried Cram. “I’ll fix you for this! Open that trap!”
“Where is the envelope with my papers? If I have to ask you that again, I’ll fight you, Cram, right up here—”
“You mean you’ll murder me!” Cram suddenly screamed. “Help! help!” His voice, thin and shattered, was torn to tatters by the wind and drifted into space. He suddenly slumped at David’s feet, writhing.
Strangely, David’s anger turned to pity. He pulled the cringing object upright. “Come, Cram,” he said.
“I’ll tell, I’ll tell!” Cram screamed. “Let me down! The envelope is stuck under the bottom of the love birds’ cage,” he was panting. “In Trigg’s room. I took it! Go look! It’s there!”