“Thunder!” he exclaimed disgustedly. “I deserve all that’s comin’ to me for makin’ that bobble!”
“Hibbard,” said the judge, sternly facing the chauffeur, “this is pretty bad business for you. I suppose you know what this means to you?”
“I’m not doing any sobbing,” snarled Hibbard. “Put on the screws—I reckon I can stand it.”
“Give him the limit, dad,” urged Larry. “He deserves it—treating you like this after the way you’ve treated him for the past six months.”
The judge frowned at his son.
“You knew, did you, Hibbard,” he went on to the chauffeur, “that I was expecting to get this five thousand from Prescott for the sale of a ranch there?”
“Sure, I knew it!”
“You thought I’d gone to Prescott after the money, but you did not know that the purchaser of the ranch brought it to Phoenix to me, and that I received it after banking hours?”
“I didn’t know that, but I figgered that you couldn’t return from Prescott till after the bank had closed, and would have to keep the money in the study safe,” answered Hibbard. “The only difference your not goin’ to Prescott made, was that you caught me out with the car.”
“You slipped off to tell Chantay Seeche Tom about the money and to get his help in robbing me?”