United States or Eswatini ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
So they did, Dick telephoning his parents at the store to explain that he was at the express office helping Dave. Midnight came and went. A few minutes after the new day had begun Hemingway came out of the cupboard. "You may as well close up, Drowan," the plain clothes man decided. "The fellow who calls himself Tripps isn't going to show up.
"I never saw nitroglycerine but once," remarked Mr. Drowan, nervously. "I should say this stuff looks just like it. We won't take any chances, anyway. Dave, you go to the telephone, and notify the police. Your friends can stand guard over the box so that no one gets a chance to go near it." But, while Dave was at the 'phone, Mr. Drowan hung over the box as though fascinated.
At a moment when the office was empty of patrons Mr. Drowan stepped into the cupboard for a moment, as though searching for something. "How late do you stay open?" whispered Hemingway. "Ten o'clock, usually, on Saturday nights, but we'll keep open as late as you want, officer." "Better keep open until midnight, then."
"Do you remember the thick stuff that Dr. Thornton showed us in IV. Chemistry the other day?" "Great Scott!" breathed Dave Darrin, anxiously. "You don't mean nitroglycerine?" "But I do!" Dick nodded, energetically. "Wow! Don't stir from here. I'll call the night manager." Night Manager Drowan came over at once, eyeing the box and the tiny pool of thick stuff.
"It's addressed to Simon Tripps, to be called for. Identification by letter herewith," read Dick Prescott, from the label. "Yes; I have the letter," nodded Mr. Drowan. "It contains the signature of the party who's to call for the box. That's all the identification that's asked." At this moment Officer Hemingway, in plain clothes, came in, followed by a policeman in uniform.
Word Of The Day