“Did you hear what I said, Upton? I want you to let me see those papers,” Slocum went on, after a second of intense silence.
“What do you mean by locking that door?” Jerry demanded of the elderly assistant, without paying any attention to the real estate dealer’s words.
Casey made no response. Instead, he took his stand by his employer’s side, as if awaiting further orders.
“You act as if you were afraid of me,” sneered Slocum. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You won’t—not if I can help it,” answered Jerry. “But I want you to unlock that door. I am not to be treated as a prisoner.”
“I only wanted to secure us against interruption. So many agents come up here, and they are a regular nuisance.”
Slocum advanced and held out his hand, as if expecting Jerry would drop the precious papers into it. Instead, the boy retreated and took up a position behind a flat-top desk in the centre of the office.
At this the real estate dealer grew furious behind his well-waxed mustache. He had expected to intimidate our hero easily, and now he was nonplused.
“Are you going to let me see those papers?” he fumed.
“No; at least not now.”