“Come on,” said Roy.
They left the barn, closing the door behind them, and walked briskly back to the dormitory.
“The only way to do,” said Chub, “is to watch him and not let him know it. After supper we’ll keep him in sight and when he sneaks off we’ll follow him.”
“That’s it! We’ll be detectives,” agreed Roy with enthusiasm. [“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”]
“I’m Vidocq.”
“Who’s he?”
“A French detective,” answered Chub. “He had Sherlock Holmes fried to a frizzle. Besides, he was real.”
“I’ll bet you Holmes could have given him ten yards and beaten him,” answered Roy stoutly.
