CHAPTER XV
HIS JOB
Even if they had been capable of speaking afterward, Devlin gave themlittle time. He came in, hurried upstairs and came down again in a fewminutes, carrying a suitcase and wearing his usual dark clothes. Heordered Frost to stay close to the house until he returned. And withoutseeming to see the silent, staring boys he nodded at Timmy with someshow of impatience.
"Time's short--come on!"
Skippy could still feel the strong, firm clasp of Timmy's handshakelong after the ancient car clattered out of the back yard. He feltrestless, and Nickie, that heroic defier of man-made petty laws, seemedstunned and fearful.
Shorty and Biff, a little too blunt to be long affected by anything,were comfortably seated again at the table arguing in their nativetongue over a game of cards. Frost was seated opposite them, absorbedin a New York newspaper.
"All along I been sorta thinkin' we might be layin' it on kinda thick,"Nickie whispered at Skippy's side. "Know what I mean? Aw, I thoughtmebbe we'd got thinkin' the worsta Devlin counta that funeral pan he'sgot an' the house an' all--see? People get jumpy just talkin' boutghosts, don't they? Well, that's what I mean--I thought we got thinkin'he's a killer like Timmy done an' we couldn't thinka him as nothin'else. Up till just before they beat it I tells myself mebbe it's justhis old racket, the swindlin' game that he's workin' in a new way withus kids as fall guys--see? But when I sees his face an' his eyes allfunny an' starin' when he tells Timmy to c'mon, I get feelin' badinside."
"Me too," Skippy agreed, after he had made certain that Frost was notwatching them.
"Say, kid," Nickie said, between half-closed lips, "I ain't feelin'we're thinkin' the worsta him now. I'm feelin' that mebbe he's worse'n'what we think, he is--see!"
They sauntered toward the table at that juncture for Frost was lookingup from his paper. His shrewd, colorless eyes observed them and histhin mouth was wrinkled mirthfully.
"Something in this here paper might give you kids a laff," he chuckled."Here, sit down and read it--I gotta go up to my room and do a fewthings."
He was still chuckling when he left the kitchen but none of the boyspaid him any attention then. They were too interested in the page whichNickie spread out and on which they read the headlines:
HOLD UP POLICE, HELP BOYS FLEE REFORMATORY TERM
Gangsters Wrest Four From Injured Guards After Delafield Bound Auto Is Ditched.
JOHN DOE IS RESCUED
He And Three Others Escape With Armed Aid--Comb Country For Fugitives.
There were two columns of the story. It had been discovered that thecar had been tampered with and the driver told of being drawn intoconversation while he was waiting at the courthouse by a "queer-lookingman, dressed like a mechanic." Also, he described how the boys had beentaken from him at the point of a gun and how Dippy Donovan had refusedto escape. It was hinted at the reformatory that the boy, because ofhis behavior, stood a chance of having more than half his sentenceremitted.
"They'd do that for us too, eh?" Shorty remarked regretfully. "The timeeet go quick then an' when we got out we go 'ome, eh? Now we don't go'ome teel we do stretch. Now we go west where Devlin send us. Always weare seeck for 'ome but we can't go."
"Yeah," said Nickie wistfully, "that's the trouble. It's justa badbreak. I never give it a tumble before bout home, sweet home. All Ithought was what a joke on them dicks when we pull a fast one. I neverthink how it ain't such a joke goin' west where we can't go home unlesswe take a rap. An' it'll be harder doin' the stretch afterward thannow--why didn' I thinka that, hah?"
"I coulda told you if I hadn't been out," Skippy said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, sure thing, kid. You got brains. Me, I think I'm smart--see! Idon't think how I'm gonna get homesick out west an' wanta see my auntan' New York too. Holy Smoke, I don't wanna be dodgin' dicks forever!"he added, bitterly.
Bragging, laughing boy-heroes the day before, they were all bitter andresentful now. Their grand dream of escape, their defiance of the law,had brought them nothing but disappointment, and instead of knowingthat each day brought them nearer to freedom, they were to be foreverpursued by the spectral arm of the law. It threatened them with adouble punishment should they come back voluntarily, yet it stoodbetween them and their homes if they evaded it.
Skippy was absorbed in these thoughts just as if he had been one ofthem. He no longer felt that he was playing a part or acting as thespring of the trap into which Mr. Conne hoped Devlin would fall; hefelt that the whole thing had become too realistic and that the springof the trap was threatening to snap upon himself instead of Devlin.
Nickie broke into his musing. "Aw, we ain't gettin' nowheres by sittin'here mopin' about it, hah? C'mon, kid, let's play rummy."
Skippy had been turning the pages of the paper, giving them a cursoryglance. As he turned to the ninth page he saw a column marked PERSONALand directly under it he saw his name. His heart pounded furiously.
"Yeah, later," he said, trying to make his voice sound calm. "I gottaread the baseball news."
Nickie nodded absently for he was already absorbed in a good hand ofcards which Biff had just dealt him. Skippy made certain that they wereall equally absorbed; also, he made certain that Frost was still quietupstairs. Then he proceeded to read.
SKIP: UNDERSTAND UNEXPECTED MOVE--SHOULD HAVE PREPARED FOR THAT ... YOU MUST SEND WORD SOMEHOW--IT'S YOUR JOB!... SIGNED "BOSS."
He must send word--_somehow_! _It was his job!_ No one but CarltonConne could have said it just like that--no one but Carlton Conne couldhave written it! And Skippy thrilled at the thought, thrilled each timehe read the vivid message. He _would_ get word to him somehow,particularly since he had seen in print that it was his job to donothing else but! There was no doubt about it now.
Carlton Conne had signed himself as _Boss_!