“They ’re mountains,” Babbing said. “And we ’re going there.”
Barney glanced furtively out the window again, to make sure that he had not overlooked them. He knew what mountains were. He had seen pictures of them. There were none in sight. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Babbing brushed the newspapers from the seat beside him and put his satchel on the floor. “Sit over here, and I ’ll tell you what I want you to do.”
Barney obeyed him, eager, interested, important. He forgot the window as completely as if it had been a childish toy, and his face became grave with an elderly attention, large-eyed.
Babbing continued to occupy himself with his book. “We have a case against a man named Langton,” he said as he scrutinized and turned the pages. “William K. Langton. For wrecking a trust company that he was president of. He’s out on bail. We can’t complete our case against him without the evi-
