"See here, I want to talk to you."
"You let go of me," was Paul's only answer. "I don't want anything to do with you."
"Answer my question."
"I haven't got to." And now Paul did his best to get away. He had just twisted himself loose when Jim Haskett struck him a cruel blow on the head.
"You—you brute!" gasped the boy, as the tears came. He was about to try retreating again, when Haskett caught him once more.
"Now answer me, or I'll thrash the life out of you," he hissed into Paul's ear. "And mind you tell the truth."
"He said that he had a—a—" the boy broke off short. "I won't tell you, there! Now let go!" And he began to squirm.
"I know what he said," blustered Haskett. "Said he had had a ten-dollar gold piece in his valise, didn't he?"
"Ye-es."