“So Sandy told me this morning,” Al stated.
“Well, I can’t find it,” he pushed three of the smaller books into a large lower desk drawer, and turned, mysteriously smiling. “How do you like this idea?” he asked. “I’ll put a few books aside, and then, when the staff comes in, tomorrow, I’ll see how the bookkeeper and Parsons take it. If there’s anything ‘flim-flammy’ about them, they will show it when they miss the books.”
“That’s dandy!” agreed Al.
“What do you figure on doing now?” Barney asked.
“Why—nothing special,” said Bob. “We thought if Lang was flying over to see Father, that would take him about three hours—or four, and he wouldn’t get back here before morning, so there’s no use waiting for him to come back here. But—we haven’t anything special to do, except go to call on Sandy’s son, Jimmy-junior.”
“Why not ‘stick around’ here?” suggested Barney. “For awhile, at least. I don’t want to be mixed up in anything, but if anybody should come slinking around, I’d like to know it—as long as you have nothing much on hand?”
“Let’s!” urged Al.
“Suits me,” Curt agreed. Bob was willing.
“Why not put out all the lights, and just hang around in the dark for an hour?” suggested Barney.
They agreed readily enough, and felt quite like conspirators or real sleuths on a big case as they occupied easy chairs in the big “directors’ room” and talked in low tones.