theyKen turned. “I’m right in back of you. They’re on my right—tucked into my belt.”
“Got them!” Sandy fumbled a minute, remembering to shuffle his feet as he did so. “Those rats are getting braver every minute,” he muttered. Then he sighed. “I can’t tear them by myself.”
“It needs both of us. Wait—let me help.”
It was heartbreaking work. Standing back to back, their hands almost numb, they kept laboriously at it. Ken held a bill and Sandy tore the stiff paper a fraction of an inch at a time. Fear that they might drop a piece on the floor, and expose their possession of the bills, made them doubly careful.
But finally the job was done. Ken had five halves stuffed into a back pocket, and so did Sandy. Even with their hands bound they could pull them out and drop them somewhere—if they e
