"What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about?
Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.

"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---"
Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain job
for ye. Right, so far, ain't I?"

"Possibly," assented Fred, coldly.

"Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o'
the High School locker rooms," Tip went on, cunningly. "Ye hired
me to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents that
study there. Then ye hired me to break inter Dick Prescott's
room and get the loot inter his trunk. Right, ain't I?"

Tip spoke assertively, making no effort to keep his voice low.

"For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties," protested
Fred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him. His face was
paler, now, from uneasiness.

"Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me," Tip went on,
unconcernedly. "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy? Because I done my
stretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me on
that score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like I
did, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!"

Tip laughed cunningly. Fred's face darkened. He squirmed, yet
found himself afraid to show anger.