“He’ll not bother you tonight, Oaks,” he said. “One of the boys can help you lift him into the car.”
“I don’t like this business,” the watchman complained again. “What if his skull should be fractured?”
“He’ll be okay by tomorrow,” the waiter answered indifferently. “Heflanz gave him a little too much with the blackjack.”
Penny waited to hear no more. Creeping cautiously away from the skylight, she returned to her chum who remained perched precariously on the overhanging tree branch.
“Learn anything?” Louise demanded in a whisper.
“Did I? Lou, that old man is Carl Oaks! He and our waiter friend have a prisoner inside the cabin.”
“A prisoner! My gracious! Then they must be saboteurs!”
“They’re planning to blow up the Seventh Street Bridge at one o’clock,” Penny went on tersely. “And they aim to blame it all on Burt Ottman!”
“He’s not one of the outfit then?”
“Seemingly not. They have him trussed up inside a closet. Lou, you’ve got to hot-foot it to town and bring the police!”