“Because I shall explain why I photographed that film. I said a friend of mine wanted a picture of the camel in it. I spoke the truth. He wants that picture because the animal in your film was stolen.”
“The mischief!” ejaculated the partner of Slavin, staring at Pep as if he had found him out to be a pretty smart boy—and one to be feared.
But if this man was startled—the effect upon Slavin of Pep’s audacious statement, impolitic though it might have been, was fairly extraordinary. He actually paled and trembled. For a moment his mind seemed taking in all the words might imply. Then springing to his feet he pounced down upon Pep.
“Norris,” he spoke in husky, unsteady tones, “take this fellow down to the lumber room. Lock him in safe and sound. When the crowd is gone we’ll put him through the third degree. It isn’t safe to let him loose.”
“No, he knows a lot too much for our good,” growled Slavin’s partner.
Pep’s eyes glowed. He had deftly got these men to verify his suspicions. There was something underhanded about their possession of the camel film. Pep had surmised correctly when he had told Vic Belton and Randy that the starting point in the hunt for the stolen camels was the New Idea photo playhouse.
Pep was a fighter on most occasions when cornered. However, he knew that Slavin was in an ugly mood. The three men he faced were big burly ruffians. Pep did not care about being battered. They could not detain him long, for Randy and Vic knew that he had come to the New Idea. They would suspect Slavin and look for him there if he was absent for any length of time.
“Go ahead,” said Pep, indifferently. “You won’t help yourself by locking me up.”
The man Slavin had called Norris led the youth to a door at the rear of the room.
“Get down there,” he ordered, and turned on an electric light in the vague darkness below. As Pep descended a pair of rickety steps Norris closed and locked the door.