"Can't you say nothin' else than 'it seems ter me'?" grinned Musgrove, impudently. "That's the ninth time yer said it. I counted 'em."
"Seems to me that you—"
"Makes ten!" Billy shifted his position and chuckled audibly, while Piper glared angrily for a moment, then resumed, "This is a pretty serious business, boys. Have you seen any one around lately?"
"No!"
"And doesn't Yardsley have any suspicions?"
An uncomfortable expression flitted across Nat Wingate's face, and slight as it was, Piper's quick eye detected it.
"Oh, ho!" put in the poet laureate, "it's all a mystery. Yardsley said yesterday that he never expected to find out who took them."
A sort of chuckle came from Billy Musgrove, which seemed to irritate Piper considerably. Heydon, too, looked over with a surprised air, remarking, "I'm sure I can't see what there is to amuse any one in an affair like this."
"I ain't said I was amused at the rob'ry," returned Musgrove with another chuckle.
"But at something—that's quite apparent," said Piper. For a moment he remained thoughtful, then, as an idea suddenly entered his mind, a slight flush crossed his face. "What is this, Wingate?" he asked, rather sharply. "What did old Yardsley say? Come, out with it. No need of any mystery."