"Gone?"
"Yes, everything—papers, books, pens, pencils, writing pads, ink, mucilage, everything. It's a clean sweep. Do you know anything about it?"
"No, I don't," answered Nelson, and now he was as wide awake as his partner. "When did it happen?"
"I don't know—some time before I got there. One of the padlocks was broken and the other unlocked. The rascals even took the money drawer," went on Van Pelt bitterly.
"That had fifteen cents in it," said Nelson. "I took it in after I made up the cash for the day."
"Well, we're in a pickle now," groaned Van Pelt. "And just think, we were insured only day before yesterday."
"But not against burglars," groaned Nelson in return. "If we can't trace up the stuff, we'll have to lose it."
"But we can't afford to lose the stuff. It was worth sixty dollars if it was worth a penny."
"Nearer seventy dollars, for I bought some new pads and paper-bound books yesterday, and they cost seven dollars and a quarter. We must find the robbers." The newsboy hit his washstand with his fist. "By jinks, I've got it! I know who robbed us!"
"Who?"