"Then you know where to get it. I fancy if I tell Mr. Pike, of your law firm, what you've been up to——"
"Oh, don't tell him! Don't tell him!" whined the clerk. "He doesn't know anything about it. I—I just did this as a side line. If you tell him I'll lose my position and——"
"Well, I'll tell him all right, if you don't give back Miss Morton's money!" said Joe grimly.
"I tell you I haven't the cash."
"Then you must get it. You've been doing business here before, the hotel clerk tells me. Come now—hand over the cash—get it—and I'll let you go, though perhaps I shouldn't. If you don't pay up—well, the officer ought to be downstairs waiting for you now. Come!" cried Joe sharply. "Which is it to be—the money or jail?"
Sanford looked around like a cornered rat seeking a means of escape. There was none. Joe, big and powerful, stood between him and the door.
"Well?" asked Joe significantly.
"I—I'll pay her back the money," faltered Sanford. "But I'll have to go out to get it."
"Oh, no, you won't," said Joe cheerfully. "If you went out you might forget to come back. Here's a telephone—just use that."
Sanford sighed. His last chance was gone.