“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Are you the manager?”
“Yes.”
Chick did not fancy being treated in that way. He pressed a little nearer to the window, and said, with sinister intonation:
“You take a tip from me, Mr. Manager, and have another think. Make it a more serious one this time.”
“What do you mean by that?” frowned Hewitt.
“Just what I say,” Chick replied, turning the lap of his vest and displaying his detective’s badge.
Hewitt started perceptibly, and flushed deeply.