“Well,” whispered Al, “we’re safe——”
“And we can take the books back——”
“Can we find them?”
“They said ‘on the shelf.’ Feel around, as soon as they are out—wait! Al, I’ll slip over and spy out through the window——”
Al sat on the floor, among the sacks, mopping his brow which was wet with hot perspiration that had, a moment before, been ice cold. Bob waved across the bar of moonlight. The trio of seeming conspirators was safely away, he indicated.
Again using their hands, they felt along the walls.
With his head, though jarred only slightly, Bob found the shelf. A quick exploration defined the books, in a compact roll of tape-tied cloth, hidden under the sack. It was a second’s work to remove them and to rejoin Al.
“Now—how can we get them away? Won’t they be watching?”
“Let’s go down and see.”
Alertly, and with caution, Bob protruded his head over the edge of the opening by the ladder. He was fortunate! In the doorway stood the unrecognized member of the party, smoking. Evidently he had returned.