As a spy he knew who we were. He knew that we were on Mr. Ricks’ side. To him we were the enemy, sort of. Tom especially.
Why, then, had he hired us, out of all the boys in Tutter, to peddle his fake beauty soap? Was he planning to make some secret use of us later on when we were least likely to suspect it? [[84]]
That was a thing to keep in mind, I concluded, looking out for myself.
Scoop said that we should go ahead and sell all of the soap that we could. There was money in it for us.
“But we’ll fool mister spy,” he said, “if it’s his scheme, in hiring us, to get all of us away from the house at the same time. One of us will always stand guard here to keep him out.”
“I locked myself in this afternoon,” spoke up Tom.
“That’s the stuff,” waggled Scoop. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Having had our supper, we were gathered on the front porch of the brick house. The sun had gone down. It was fast getting dark. And on the moment, as I watched the creeping shadows deepen and lengthen under the eerie pine trees, I wondered uneasily what new adventures the night would unfold for us. I had the feeling, sort of, that we were heading into something risky.
Scoop got up.
“Come on, Jerry,” he signaled.