“None, unless I know where the cave is. But you’re going to show me now.”
“Like fun I am.”
“Either you spill the beans or I’ll squeal.” Jean had read enough comic strips that she could talk like a thug, and this was an occasion when she felt she had to act tough.
“You promised not to tell when I took you to the hideaway,” objected Jim.
“Yes, but I didn’t promise not to tell about all this stuff you’ve been stealing.”
“It isn’t really stealing,” protested Jim.
“It looks like stealing to me,” said Jean with infuriating calmness. “You took a bunch of junk but you didn’t ask.”
Jim felt trapped. He still didn’t consider his recent activities thievery, but that wasn’t the important part. If Jean talked, his parents would ask embarrassing questions about what he had done with the articles. They would know he had a secret headquarters, which spoiled half the mystery. It was better that Jean knew, than everyone. Thus far she had kept very quiet about what she already knew.
“Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll take you there on your birthday,” he offered finally.
Jean considered thoughtfully. “That’s three weeks away.”