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news.”
    “Right,” murmured Jabber.
    “I was just going over to the house,” explained Tony. “Want a lift?”
    Jabber got into the car and rode the short distance to the house. Tony said something about asking Pete to go hang-gliding
     with him, but the words were just fuzzy sounds in Jabber’s head. He was wondering how to face Pete when the showdown came.
     Now that Tony had seen him pick up the wallet, his decision to tell Pete the truth was a big step closer.
    Tony parked in front of the house and started to get out. “Tony, just a minute,” said Jabber.
    He was breathing hard.
    “Yes, what is it, Jabber?”
    Jabber’s face was hot. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t tell Pete about the wallet. Okay?”
    “Oh, sure. You’d rather tell him yourself. I understand.”
    “Thanks, Tony.”
    They got out of the car and walked up the front steps. Jabber tried to open the door. It was locked. He pounded on the panel
     three times with the heavy brass knocker. In a moment the door opened, and Karen stood there.
    “Oh, hi!” she said, her eyes brightening as she saw Tony. “Look what the cool air brought in!”
    “Hi,” said Jabber, going past her. With Tony behind him, she probably hadn’t seen him, anyway.
    Tony not only had a fondness for hang-gliding, he had recently developed a fondness for Karen, too. Jabber suspected that
     sometimes his coming to visit Pete about their favorite sport was just an opportunity for Tony to see her.
    They talked in the living room while Jabber wentinto the kitchen, where the aroma of hashed brown potatoes and hamburgers filled his nostrils.
    “Hi, Mom,” he said.
    She looked at him from the table where she was reading the evening paper.
    “Hi, son,” she said. “We were waiting for you. How come you came in the front way? You usually come in the back.”
    “Tony Dranger’s here. He picked me up. Is Pete home?”
    “He’s in his room. Better call him. Dinner’s about ready.”
    He walked up the stairs and knocked on Pete’s door.
    “Yes?” came Pete’s voice.
    “Pete. Can I come in a minute?” asked Jabber.
    “Sure. Come on.”
    He opened the door and went in. Pete was sitting on the bed, reading a magazine.
    “Well, hi,” he said amiably. “I knew you’d be coming home any minute. My stomach was throwing me signals. Who won?”
    “We did. Two to one.”
    “Good for you. Any goals?”
    “One.” Jabber closed the door quietly behind him.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Pete, sliding his feet to the floor. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a ghost.”
    “I’m sorry.” Jabber took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Pete, I’ve got something to tell you.”
    Their eyes locked.
    “You found my wallet,” said Pete, no emotion in his voice, no sparkle in his eyes.
    Jabber’s face paled. “How did you know?”
    Pete’s eyes lit up now. He smiled. “You mean I hit it on the nose? My wild guess was right? You really found my wallet?”
    Jabber nodded. “Yes. I found it a couple of days ago. But I was afraid to tell you.”
    “Why?”
    “I thought you’d accuse me of taking the money that was in it.”
    Pete’s smile faded. “You mean that you found the wallet . . . empty?”
    “That’s right.”
    Pete looked at him squarely. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.
    “You believe me, don’t you?” said Jabber.
    “Of course I believe you,” said Pete. “Why shouldn’t I?”
    He got off the bed and started to pace up and down the room.
    He doesn’t believe me, thought Jabber. I knew he wouldn’t.
    “Where did you find it?” Pete asked.
    “About half a block up the street. Near a bush. Pete, it’s the truth. You’ve got to believe me. That’s where I found it, and
     it was empty.”
    Pete paused. “About half a block up the street? I know I didn’t lose it there.”
    “You said you lost it while playing touch football. Somebody must have found it, taken the money, seen your address, and tossed
     the empty wallet