“You ain’t got nothin’ on me,” growled the Popella lad. “Go ahead and ask your questions. I ain’t afraid of you.”
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, my lad,” commanded Tavia sharply. “Or you may find you have a good deal to be afraid of.”
Dorothy made another slight gesture as though pleading for silence.
“You surely haven’t anything to be afraid of if you tell me what I want to know,” she said patiently, for she had come to the conclusion that the best way to handle the sullen lad was by kindness, not threats. “Jack, my brother Joe has disappeared and we have no idea where to look for him. Can’t you help us?”
Tavia started and looked sharply at Dorothy. So that was what her chum had been keeping from her the night before! She had suspected Popella and had not wanted her, Tavia, to know that Popella was intimate enough with Joe to come under suspicion. Poor Doro, she certainly had her hands full of trouble!
As for the young Italian, at the mention of Joe’s name his behavior became very strange indeed. He squirmed and once more glanced up and down the block as though contemplating escape.
Dorothy took a step or two closer and he evidently changed his mind. He shuffled to the other foot and said, without raising his eyes:
“I don’t know nothin’ about Joe, honest I don’t, Miss Dale. If he’s disappeared I’m sure sorry, but I don’t know nothin’ about him.”
For a moment Dorothy was nonplused. The Italian’s protestations seemed sincere enough, and yet——
“Don’t believe him,” whispered Tavia in her ear. “He has a shuffling foot and a shifty eye. A wicked combination—take it from one who knows!”