Frost fell as Skippy afterward termed it, “hook, line and sinker.” “Sounds like it’s fool-proof, kids,” he said. “And the dicks don’t know about me, hey?”
“How would they?” Skippy assured him.
Frost got up. “I’ll get my keys,” he said, “and we’ll beat it pronto. I’ll take you to the highway and make out I won’t be glad to beat it.”
Nickie looked at Skippy while they were waiting. “It ain’t true you sent that notebook, is it?” he asked incredulously.
Skippy grinned. “Gee, you’re not fool-proof, Nickie. How could I get that book without Devlin seein’ me that night, huh? Didn’t I have a big enough job on my hands gettin’ that note into the old lady’s pocketbook? I hadda spread it on thick to frighten him right off an’ make him think the cops had that book—well, it ain’t a lie exactly ’cause they’ll have it some day an’, boy, is that enough to send Devlin where he can’t be sent any more, huh?”
“An’ how!” Nickie agreed. “Then it’s still out there behind the barrel, hah?”
“Sure, an’ it’s gonna stay there till the cops come an’ get it. I’ll tell ’em where it is—nobody else would think to look for it there. We can’t let Frost see us takin’ it now an’ even if we could, I don’t like it on us in case anythin’ goes wrong.”
“Aw, what could go wrong now, hah?” Nickie said confidently. “Frost takes us out to the road where we’re safe, so we should worry.”
Skippy felt somewhat less confident. He could not, try as he would, put away from him the feeling that nothing was sure in the dark, forgotten swampland of Devil’s Bog. When they were once clear of it entirely, he told himself, he would be able to laugh at the fears which he felt now.