Suddenly an upper window was thrust up, and a man's head came into view.
"Who's there?" demanded a gruff, impatient voice.
"Is this Mr. Martin, Mr. A.B. Martin?" inquired Bart.
"Yes, it is—what do you want?"
"I have an express package for you," explained Bart.
"Oh, you have?" snapped Mr. Martin. "What the mischief do you mean waking a man up at midnight on a thing like that! Deliver it at the factory in the morning."
The speaker, muttering direfully under his breath, was about to slam down the window.
"Wait one moment, Mr. Martin," called up Bart sharply. "This is a special delivery, and a very important matter. I tender you this package in the presence of these witnesses, and it is a legal delivery. If you decline to come down and take it, and I leave it on your doorstep at the call of the first tramp who happens to come along, I have done my duty, and the loss is yours—a matter of fifteen thousand dollars."
"What! what!" shouted Martin.
"That is the amount."