The boy sank back on his pillows and wondered where their
late assailants were now, and why they had been so determined to learn
Jeems' secret. As Ricky had said once before, the Ralestones seemed to
have been handed a gigantic tangle without ends, only middle sections,
and had been told to unravel it.
Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiously
and tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, from
which steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his other
hand was their small first-aid kit.
"Suppose we do a little patching," he suggested. "Your face at present
is not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do--run into
a mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had opened
across Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth.
"I thought it might be that for a moment--a mowing machine, I mean. No,
we just met a couple of gentlemen--enterprising fellows who wanted to
see more of this commodious mansion of ours--" Val's words faded into a
sharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed to
think that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going to
persuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they had
planned."
"Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was
swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden
talkativeness.
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