“Hi! Who’s the girl, Sleuthy?” called Jack Nelson. “Let us read it, will you?”
“’Sh!” sibilated Chub Tuttle, spluttering forth munched peanuts with a hissing sound. “The great detective has a scent.”
“Huh!” grunted Cooper, with a forced laugh. “If that’s so, he’s better off than I am. I bet on the game, and I haven’t a cent.”
“Look,” urged Nelson—“look at Sleuthy’s face! He’s excited. By Jinks! that letter must be rather interesting.”
“I’ll get a peep at it,” said Harry Hopper. “I’ll tell you if it’s a girl’s writing.”
But, although he tiptoed forward with great caution, Sleuth detected his approach, and, having finished reading the letter, hastily folded the missive and thrust it into his pocket.
“Go chase yourself, Mr. Sly Boy,” he said, waving Hopper off. “Rubbering will give you a cramp in the neck sometime.”
Roy Hooker, looking decidedly glum, came slouching along, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. Immediately Sleuth pounced upon him.
“Just the man I’m looking for,” said Piper, in almost tragic tones.
Roy drew away, seeking to shake Sleuth’s hand from his shoulder.