“I realize that, Frost,” said Devlin coldly. “But trouble or no trouble, I’m going to go to Pittsburgh with you—understand?”
The boys could not hear Frost’s reply. He might not have voiced his opinion at all. But Devlin’s heavy steps overhead seemed to speak volumes. Suddenly he hurled a question that made Skippy’s heart stand still.
“Frost,” he was shouting, “where’s that memorandum book of mine, eh?”
The boys sprang into the kitchen. They closed the door noiselessly behind them and sat down, stunned and hopeless looking.
“Well, it’s come, hah?”
Skippy nodded. “Gee whiz, I did forget. We just gotta deny it like we planned.”
“Yeah, but that ain’t sayin’ Devlin’s gonna believe us, kid.”
Skippy leaned forward on the table, his eyes blinking thoughtfully. “Listen, Nickie, it don’t make no difference what he believe, does it? If we don’t get help, we’ll have to go with him an’ take the chance like we planned. So we should worry about it either way.”
Skippy was right. Worrying about it wouldn’t help. Devlin and Frost came downstairs a few minutes later and accused them, but they managed to stick to their guns. That they had taken the ladder seemed to have caused no suspicion; neither had the boys’ frequent trips to the attic revealed how desperate had been their efforts to loosen the bars. Devlin seemed not to have noticed it.
His mind was on the notebook and his face showed that he would not dismiss the topic easily. “Where is it?” he was saying.