Could it be that
McGivney had heard him denouncing Mr. Godd and proclaiming himself a
Red? Could it be that some of the Reds had framed up something on
Peter? Could it be that McGivney had gone just plain crazy; that
Peter was in the room with a maniac armed with a revolver?
"Where did you put that money I gave you the other day;" demanded
McGivney, and added some more vile names.
Instantly, of course, Peter was on the defensive. No matter how
frightened he might be, Peter would never fail to hang on to his
money.
"I-I s-s-spent it, Mr. McGivney."
"You're lying to me!"
"N-n-no."
"Tell me where you put that money!" insisted the man, and his face
was ugly with anger, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to be
trembling with anger. Peter started to insist that he had spent
every cent. "Make him cough up, Hammett!" said McGivney; and Peter
for the first time realized that there was another man in the room.
His eyes had been so fascinated by the muzzle of the revolver that
he hadn't taken a glance about.
Hammett was a big fellow, and he strode up to Peter and grabbed one
of Peter's arms, and twisted it around behind Peter's back and up
between Peter's shoulders. When Peter started to scream, Hammett
clapped his other hand over his mouth, and so Peter knew that it was
all up.
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