“It's likely he's a' thafe,” said Bridget, from a safe distance.
“If I were,” said Paul, coolly, “I shouldn't be apt to call your attention by such a noise. I can prove to you that I am telling the truth. I stopped at the office, and the bookkeeper sent a servant to show me up here.”
“If this is true,” said Mr. Piper, “why, when you found yourself locked in, didn't you ring the bell, instead of making such a confounded racket? My nerves won't get over it for a week.”
“I didn't think of the bell,” said Paul; “I am not much used to hotels.”
“What will we do with him?” asked James, looking to Mr. Piper for counsel.
“You'd better take him downstairs, and see if his story is correct,” said the nervous gentleman, with returning good sense.
“I'll do it,” said James, to whom the very obvious suggestion seemed marked by extraordinary wisdom, and he grasped Paul roughly by the arm.
“You needn't hold me,” said our hero, shaking off the grasp. “I haven't any intention of running away. I want to find out, if I can, what has become of the man that swindled me.”
James looked doubtfully at Mr. Piper.
“I don't think he means to run away,” said that gentleman. “I begin to think his story is correct. And hark you, my young friend, if you ever get locked up in a hotel room again, just see if there is a bell before you make such a confounded racket.”