“I know that you aren’t going to get inside—not while I got the keys!” and the self-important individual drew himself up like a turkey gobbler.
“Oh, there’s no hurry,” said Bob, easily. “Any time will do. I was just wondering—that’s all.”
“Yes, there’s a lot of folks wondering about this case,” said the Storm Mountain official. “And they’ll wonder a lot more when I arrest the man that robbed Hiram Beegle.”
“I thought you said Hiram did it himself—locked himself in the room and then told a story of being held up,” said Bob with a sly smile. He was not averse to taking a “fall” out of the conceited chief.
“I never said no such thing, young feller, and you know it!”
“You said Hiram might have done all this himself.”
“Well, I may have said it, but I didn’t mean it. And don’t you go to takin’ me up so short, neither! I’m in charge here and if I don’t want to let you snoop around I don’t have to.”
“No, I suppose you don’t,” agreed Bob. “But I didn’t intend to take you up short. I want to get at the bottom of this mystery as much as you do. I don’t believe Hiram Beegle robbed himself. What object would he have?”
“Um! I’m not here to discuss this case with you! I’ll solve it in the official way. And I don’t need any help from outsiders. I called in Chief Duncan because I thought he’d like to be associated with me in this, but I really don’t need him. I can get along alone, and I’m going to!”
“Suit yourself,” replied Bob easily, and he smiled as he moved away. He had left his flivver out in the road, and as he got into it he saw, farther down the highway, the Italian organ grinder trudging along.