Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/246

 at that. The best time to get those books would be right⸺”

“Right now,” put in Eddie. “I don’t think his nibs is back yet—that old girl said they were still in the house there. I don’t think he’ll be in any great hurry to leave, until he has to. It don’t seem reasonable that he’d carry those books around with him, so I imagine they’re still in his room.”

“His room’s right on this floor,” said Val.

Eddie stepped to the French windows and threw them open, letting a flood of pure, sweet air into the room. The rain had ceased, and the stars had come out miraculously, studding the heavens above Chesapeake Bay with their glory.

The window opened on a long balcony, or sun-parlor, which ran the length of that side of the house.

“Right at the other end of this balcony,” said Eddie, “is where this here handless wonder lives. If the window isn’t open, I think I know where a cold chisel’ll do the most good. We’ll slip in, cop the books⸺”

“If he isn’t home,” interposed Val.

“And if he’s home, so much the worse for him, that’s all I gotta say,” remarked Eddie. “Nobody can give me a wallop like this and get away with it as easy as that. Maybe there won’t be nothing left for the police⸺”

“Now, Eddie. None of that stuff around. We’ll be thrown out of the hotel, and it’s the only decent one this side of Norfolk,” laughed Val. “And anyway, that won’t get us anywhere. Of course, if he starts any roughhouse, why, we can slip it to him, but I don’t think he’ll pull that stuff here. Get the chisel.”

Eddie unbuttoned his coat; a large chisel stood in