CHAPTER XIII—WE ARE IMPLICATED
I guess we had been going about fifteen minutes when Brent said, “Let’s see those papers you were telling us about.”
Pee-wee felt in the side pocket and then in the opposite side pocket and then began shouting, “They’re not here! They’re not here! The papers are stolen!”
“Good night,” I said, “the plot grows thicker.”
“Maybe Harry has them in his pocket,” Grove said.
We looked behind, but the Ford wasn’t in sight.
“The papers are stolen! The papers are stolen!” Pee-wee kept shouting, “There’s a plot! Hurry up, drive faster! I bet it was that soda clerk in Bennett’s.”
“The papers aren’t so necessary,” Grove said.
“Sure they’re necessary,” Pee-wee screamed; “that letter reveals the secret. Drive faster!”
Brent didn’t drive any faster, he just laughed; and all the while the rest of us were rooting around, trying to find the papers.