“Into the fountain, you mean? We heard you moaning and thought it must be haunted. How long have you been here?” asked Judy.
“Days.” Evidently Dick didn’t remember how many, but Judy could imagine how long it must have seemed. He had been without food or any other comfort. This much he told them in a hoarse, whispery voice. It was hard to make out what he said.
“Who locked you in?” questioned Horace.
“Roger. You know him. He’s ... no friend ... made me ... lose job. Told them ... my record. That ... fixed me ... gave me ... no peace ... anywhere. Now ... too late!”
Talking seemed to be too much of an effort, and he broke off here, looking beseechingly at Judy.
“It’s all right, Dick. We understand. You don’t have to tell us any more.”
“But I want to,” he protested in a louder tone. “They made me ... sign papers. When I ... refused ... they beat me up.... Bad shape. Can’t walk.”
“We’ll get you out of here somehow,” Horace promised. “Who did it? Roger and Cubby?”
Dick nodded. After taking another deep breath, he added, “and Falco. He’s ... boss. He made me ... copy signatures ... important men.”
“Can you remember any of the names you copied?”