"I hope you don't mean to kill me with that belt.
axe?" the old gentleman asked. But Pee-wee just couldn't speak.

"He must be a telephone girl--'he doesn't answer," I blurted out,
and even the detectives had to laugh.

"Gentlemen, if you will step inside, I'll make full confession and
then give myself up," the old man said; "for I see there is no use
in trying to escape the Boy Scouts. It was I who wrote that
treasonable memorandum and I may as well tell you that I have a
wireless. I will give you my whole history. I see that my young
friend here is a most capable secret service agent."

"We're only small boys--we belong to the infantry," I said, for I
just couldn't help blurting it out.

Well, we all went inside and I could see that the Commissioner and
the detectives kept very near the old gentleman as if they didn't
have much use for his laughing and his pleasant talk. I guess maybe
they were used to that kind of thing, and he couldn't fool them.

When we got into his library I saw books all around on the shelves,
hundreds of them I guess, and the desk was covered with papers and
there was a picture of Mark Twain with "Best regards to Mr. Donnelle,"
written on it. Gee whit taker, I thought when I looked around; maybe
Mr. Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he's sure a high-brow.

"You'd have to take an elevator to get up to him," I whispered to
Pee-wee.