“Look—look—under the seat!” Pee-wee was trying to say.
“And the tell-tale papers are gone,” Harry said. “Curses! Curses!”
“My idea,” Brent said, “would be to escape into a boat from one of the jail windows. I hope the jail is near a river, but I don’t suppose we can have everything. It ought to be on a dark night. This is going to be great.”
“We should have kidnapped a maiden,” Harry said; “there ought to be a maiden in it. If there had only been a gold-haired maiden in the machine——”
“Shut up! You’re crazy!” Pee-wee yelled. “The plot is thicker—it’s terribly thick. There is a maiden—listen—shut up—listen, will you—there is a—a maiden!”
“Is she under the back seat?” Brent wanted to know.
“Open the back seat and let her out, poor girl,” Harry said.
“How about ransom?” Brent said.
“Read this paper!” at last Pee-wee managed to shout. “Will you keep still and read this paper? The plot is thicker than you think it is.”
“It must be about solid,” Harry said.