“I should like to get a room here, please.”
“Humph!” the red-haired man looked up with a grunt rather suggestive of a certain barnyard animal. “A room, did you say?”
“Yes, sir. An inexpensive one. In fact, as cheap a one as you have.”
“Sure you can pay for it?” was the uncompromising reply.
“I certainly can or I shouldn’t have asked you for it,” said Ned, with the same flash in his eyes as had come there when Sam Hinkley had addressed him so rudely that morning.
Apparently the landlord of the Hinkley House concluded that he had gone far enough, for in a more amiable tone he said:
“I can let you have a good room for a dollar. Want your meals?”
“For to-day anyway,” responded Ned, who had saved from his garage work along the road enough to make him feel sure of himself for a short time, anyhow.
The business was soon concluded and Ned was at liberty to go up to his room. As soon as he was alone, he drew a chair to the window and sat there thinking deeply. Naturally his thoughts all reverted to one subject, and that was: what would be the verdict at High Towers?