“You’ll be sorry if you tell the Chief of Police,” blustered Al.
Curt, as thoughtful as Bob, trod on the foot of the younger captive and Al, jumping away, refused to be warned.
“I don’t care!” he cried. “If he thinks two sons of a detective, and their friend will be put in cells for trying to save—oh, all right, Bob!—for trying to put money back into a safe—” he whirled on Mr. Parsons at the sound of the latter’s sarcastic laugh, “—that’s what we were doing! If the Police Chief arrests us—we’ll ask him to arrest you, too!”
“Indeed! Why!”
“For taking the company books away. For showing them to somebody outside the firm—planning how to get more cheap parts into the plant. Oh, we know all about you!”
“How do you know I had company books?”
“I saw the pages open on the table at The Windsock!”
“Indeed! Young man,” he swung to Curt. “Please go into the bookkeeper’s room, unlock his book cabinet, and bring all the books you find.”
Curt, surprised, took the small key from their captor, went in and lighted the adjoining office, returning, finally, with an armful of books.
“Do you know the books of a complete set when you see them?”