“I’ll ask you not to be vulgar, Mr. Burton.”
“But—look here, Miss Tish. We’ll be jailed for this, you know. You may be able to get away with the C. in C.’s tires, but you can’t steal a hundred or so grenades without somebody missing them. Besides, what the—what the dickens are you going to do with them? If it had been eggs now, or oranges—but grenades!”
“They may be useful,” Tish replied in her cryptic manner. “Forearmed is forewarned, Mr. Burton. What is this white pin for?”
I believe she then pulled the pin, for I heard Mr. Burton yell, and a second later there was a loud explosion.
I sat still, unable to move, and then I heard Mr. Burton say in a furious voice: “If I hadn’t grabbed that thing and thrown it you’d have been explaining this salvage system of yours to your Maker before this, Miss Carberry. Upon my word, if I hadn’t known you’d blow up the whole outfit the moment I was gone I’d have left before this. I’ve got nerves if you haven’t.”
“That was an over-arm pitch you gave it,” was Tish’s sole reply. “I had always understood that grenades were thrown in a different manner.”
I distinctly heard his groan.
“You’ll have about as much use for grenades as I have for pink eye,” he said almost savagely. “I don’t like to criticize, Miss Tish, and I must say I think to this point we’ve made good. But when I see you stocking up with grenades instead of cigarettes, and giving every indication of being headed for the Rhine, I feel that it is time to ask what next?”
“Have you any complaint about the last few weeks?” Tish inquired coldly.
“Well, if we continue to leave a trail of depredations behind us—— It’s bad enough to have a certain person think I’m a slacker, but if she gets the idea that I’m a first-class second-story worker I’m done, that’s all.”