THE SEARCH
The cellar yielded nothing in their search but mouldy rubbish, ancient
cobwebs and the stone crock which Frost had indicated as their water
supply. A broken shovel which Skippy salvaged from one of the rubbish
piles was dragged upstairs with the forlorn hope that it might prove
useful if they found nothing better.
The kitchen cupboard was next attacked but after an hour's work they
found that that too availed them nothing. Warm and perspiring, they
walked through the gloomy rooms and sat down to rest in the vast,
almost dark parlor. Skippy looked around at the chairs and sighed.
"We've gotta find sump'n, Nickie!" he said. "It ain't gonna be no joke
sittin' here an' knowin' we _could_ get out if we had sump'n to work
with!"
"Don't I know it, kid!" Nickie said, running his fingers through his
straight, black hair. "It's like night all the time in here an' the
empty rooms an' creakin' floors'd drive anybody nuts." Suddenly he
straightened up, tense with a new idea. "Lissen, kid! How bout their
room, hah? They'd be wise that we'd go huntin' sump'n, so what they
don't want us findin' they lock in their room, hah? That's it--_their
room_!"
"Yeah, but it's locked," Skippy reminded him.
"Sure, it's locked," Nickie admitted smilingly. "But that's where I
come in--see? Whadda you s'pose the dicks grabbed me for, hah? Listen,
there ain't no lock I can't pick if I stick at it long enough. I'd pick
them doors downstairs if they wasn't metal an' outside locks."
Skippy could not conceal his smile.
Nickie grinned too. "Aw, don't worry, kid. It'll be the last lock I
ever pick." Suddenly he was serious and looked straight at Skippy.
"Say, kid, I can't believe you ever beat the law even onct."
"Nope."
"Holy Smoke! Framed, hah?"
"Sorta."
"If I could lay my mitts on the guy what...."
"Aw, forget it, Nickie," Skippy said, rising. "When we get away we'll
talk about it, huh? Gee whiz, I'm here an' so we gotta be thinkin' bout
gettin' out quick's we can."
They went hopefully upstairs. Armed with a small kitchen knife Nickie
started operations at the keyhole of the room which Frost and Devlin
occupied but it was late that afternoon when it yielded.
They burst into this private and mysterious sanctum with cries of joy,
then stopped a little beyond the threshold and surveyed the room with a
feeling of disappointment. It was furnished little better than their
room and aside from an old iron bed, there was a single chair, a trunk,
and a cracked mirror which hung over the dilapidated writing table.
There were two windows, barred and shuttered like the rest of the
house. Skippy noticed that, then walked to the far end of the room and
opened a closet door.
"A ladder, Nickie!" he exclaimed, joyfully. "I betcha it's a ladder for
the attic!"
"Yeah, an' what we gonna do up in the attic, hah, kid?" Nickie asked.
"Even if there wasn't no bars to them winders up there, what'd we do,
hah?"
"Did I say I knew what we'd do? Ain't it sump'n that we found sump'n?
Gee whiz, it's sump'n that the ladder gets us _somewheres_, even if
it's the attic where we can't do anything."
Nickie's keen, smiling eyes had already found something of interest on
the writing table. "A note to the big cheese, kid. From Frost. It's
short and sweet. C'mon, take a look."
Skippy picked up the paper and read: "I got a great scheme early this
morning, boss, so I'm taking the Greeks to Pittsburgh--get me? I
thought no use hanging round here till you got back ... I could have
things moving, maybe even over by that time. I won't hog the price on
account of what you said but I thought I can kill two birds with one
stone. I can have two Greek sons as well as one, can't I? Now, I'm
going so I'll see you when I get back...." It was unsigned.
Nickie looked disappointed. "Still we don't know what their racket is,
hah? There's a price an' I wonder what for? S'help me, kid, I'm
stumped."
"Me too," Skippy admitted, opening the table drawer curiously and
peering inside. He drew out a small memorandum book and opened it.
Suddenly he whistled. "If you wanna know what the price's for, this'll
tell us, Nickie. Gee whiz, here's prices _an' how_! He's got a price
for us."
"You're crazy!" Nickie said. "A price for us?"
He soon saw with his own eyes that Devlin had listed boys, prices,
dates and places over a period of several months. Also, it was quite
evident that there had been little variation in the means by which they
came into the man's dubious protection. Against Timmy Brogan's name was
listed a price of $2,500. At the top of a page, underlined in red, was
the name of Tucker, who seemed to have been a $3,000 loss to Devlin.
Turning the next page, which bore a date two days old, the boys looked
at their own names. Nickie was rated at $3,000 and Skippy at $2,500.
Shorty and Biff were question-marked at $1,000, and in parentheses the
probable price of $500 each was printed.
"At three grand I'm the most expensive guy in the bunch," Nickie
laughed nervously. "How you make it out?"
Skippy shrugged. "You're askin' me! What's all these prices for us
anyway, huh? Why do they all go from $500 to $3,000--what could it be
for? Gee whiz, Nickie, we ain't gettin' anywheres with this."
"Don't I know it, kid? We should worry about what we don't know. Let's
look through the trunk an' the closet an' if that ain't no help, we'll
go up in the attic an' chase rats."
Skippy laughed. "An' how!" he said. "If we can't get out we can give
the rats a break anyway, huh? Devlin might put a price on 'em if he
comes back an' finds 'em here."
Without any definite motive, Skippy walked over to the back window and
looked out through a good-sized chink in the shutters where two of the
slats had fallen out. A rain barrel stood just beneath the window, and
on the surface of the water a green slime had gathered, an excellent
playground for mosquitoes.
He watched it for a moment, then with a sudden idea, he let the
notebook slip from his hands and saw it slide down the side of the
building and out of sight behind the rain-barrel.
"Say, you gone nuts?" Nickie exclaimed.
"I don't know," Skippy answered honestly. "I'm playin' a hunch--don't
ask me why! It was like--aw, you know what I mean, Nickie--like Fate!"
It _was_ Fate--Skippy was to realize that before another twenty-four
hours had passed.