“That red-headed chump beat me out of a big commission on overhauling the judge’s machine, didn’t he? I was to get twenty-five per cent of the bill you ran up on the judge, in addition to ten and five on extra parts for repairs. Whose scheme was that, eh? You hatched it up and asked me to work it out for you. Your new employee got next to the crossed wires. Now I’m out of a job, and the judge don’t even suspect that you had a hand in putting the car out of commission! Is that right? You ought to find a place for me, Rockwell.”
The garage owner did not reply at once. He appeared to be turning something over in his mind.
“Why didn’t you let Pembroke take him on?” continued Hibbard. “Then I could have had this place you’ve given him.”
“I had to give Clancy a job,” Rockwell answered.
“Why?”
Rockwell peered around cautiously. There was no one on the graveled walks of the plaza, in their vicinity.
“There’s something you can do for me, Hibbard,” he proceeded. “I’ll give you a couple of hundred if you pull it off. If you have a grouch against young Clancy, you can wipe it out at the same time.”
Hibbard was profoundly interested on the instant.
“Tell me about it,” said he. “I’d do anything to play even with Clancy.”
Rockwell’s face grew stern and uncompromising as he went on: