“His dream came true,” Pee-wee whispered to me; “he kept his vow, he foiled everybody, he escaped. He—he—he what-d’ye-call-it—he hasn’t lived in vain—hey?”
“He hasn’t lived in the van very long, that’s sure,” I whispered. “He has put it all over these people and us too. Can you beat that fellow?”
“He defied locks and bolts and dungeons like Houdini,” the kid said. I guess he saw Houdini in the movies.
“Sure, he’s a real hero at last,” I said; “but he’s got me guessing.”
The constable and a couple of other men were stamping around inside the van and he called out, “Thar ain’t no clew here, nothin’ but this here can opener.” And then he came out with the can opener in his hand.
Gee whiz, I just couldn’t help shouting right out in front of everybody. I said, “That clew explains the whole mystery. There was a can of baked beans in that van, and he must have opened it and emptied them out and secreted himself in the empty can. When we threw the can away, he escaped.”
The constable said, “What’s all this talk? I want to know who you kids is, anyway. And I want ter know what you’re doin’ here, runnin’ this big van all by yourselves.”
I said, “I’m Sherlock Nobody Holmes, the boy detective. This is my trusty pal, Scout Harris. We’re on our way to kidnap Major Grumpy in this van and hold him until he gives up one thousand dollars to the Boy Scouts of America. Can you tell us where we can buy a couple of spark plugs?”
XXVI—TO THE RESCUE
All of a sudden the plot grew thicker. I thought we’d have to thin it with gasoline, it grew so thick. For a few minutes Pee-wee and I just stood there wondering what had become of Brent and laughing at the constable who was holding his axe in one hand and our can opener in the other, and all the people stood around staring at us as if they didn’t know what to make of us.