“Get your dimes ready,” Garry said.
“I haven’t got anything smaller than a cent,” I told him.
“You mean you haven’t got any sense,” Pee-wee shot at me.
“I’m poor but dishonest,” I said.
Just then I heard the door at the other end of the car slam shut and a brakeman came through shouting, “Albany the first stop, the first stop is Albany.”
“G-o-o-d night!” I said. “The plot grows thicker.”
“It’s petrified,” Warde said.
“We’re lost, strayed or stolen,” Garry began laughing.
We all made a dash for the platform, but it was too late. We were foiled again. The train was going at about forty-eleven miles an hour.
“Now what?” Pee-wee demanded, very dark and solemn like.