CHAPTER VI.
ROCKWELL’S SCHEMEHibbard sputtered wrathfully while Rockwell led him across the street and to a bench in the city hall plaza. The bench was partly screened from passers-by by a clump of tall oleanders.
“Sit down, Hibbard,” said Rockwell. “I want to talk a little sense into that foolish brain of yours, if I can.”
“I don’t want to do any chinning,” protested Hibbard. “I lost a good job, and I want to get even with the chap that stole it away from me. Pembroke paid me seventy-five a month, but the ’coms’ and—er—other things brought me in a hundred and fifty, and sometimes two hundred. I ain’t a-going to be pried loose from that snap without makin’ that red-headed robber smart for it!”
“Oh, hush!” returned the garage owner impatiently. “You’re talking at the top of your voice,
