The clerk who had been regarding them curiously over his ledger now took a hand.
"If this argument is likely to be prolonged," he suggested sarcastically, "I'd advise you either to go up to your room, Mr. Peabody, or into that card room there. That's deserted in the day time."
"Yes, come on in here," said Betty, anxious to get away from the gaze of the other guests. She led the way into the card room which opened off the lobby and was preferable to making a public journey in the elevator. "Close the door, Louise."
Mr. Peabody kept his hold on Bob's collar and from time to time he shook him vigorously, whether with the idea of shaking the stubbornness out of him or merely to indicate that he held the whip hand, Betty was undecided.
"You can let go of Bob," she said heatedly, as soon as they were in the room with the door shut. "He isn't going to run away."
"I'll see that he doesn't," was the grim reply. "You hand over that deed, young man, or I'll call a policeman in two minutes."
"I tell you I haven't got it!" protested Bob desperately. "I never saw the thing. What would I be doing with a paper of yours? I haven't got it, and that's all there is to it."
"Of course he hasn't!" For the life of her Betty could not keep still, though perhaps caution dictated that she hold her tongue. "I know he hasn't that deed, Mr. Peabody. And having him arrested won't give you what he hasn't got."
"How do you know he hasn't got it?" demanded the farmer. "Deeds don't walk off and hide themselves, young lady. Bob happens to know why I want that deed. And if he doesn't produce it, and that mighty quick, he'll find himself where they can shake the truth out of him with no fooling."
Bobby sprang to her feet from the leather chair where she had curled up to listen to the proceedings.