"Thought you would be. He ought to have sent you word," continued Corrigan. "He sold the model I took, just as I told you he would," he added.
"Where is he?" asked the girl, thrown off her guard by the villain's cool manner.
"Around here somewhere. He's been here and over to Redrock twice since yesterday. He got the contract to fix up the machinery in this old mill. The man who bought it wants the job done as soon as possible, so he went right to work. I'm helping him on the drawing. I'm a draughtsman, you know."
Deb did not know, nor was she aware that Corrigan's statement was purely fictitious.
"Where is Jack now?" she asked, turning over the plausibility of the story in her mind.
"Just went up the stream a ways, to catch the true drift of the tide," replied Corrigan. "He thinks they will get more power if the wheel is shifted around. Better come in the place and wait for him."
Deb hesitated. In spite of all the man was saying, she hated to trust him. Yet, if he was speaking the truth, certainly her treatment of him the previous evening had not been right at all.
"There are some benches inside," continued the fellow; "you are tired, I can see, and the rest will do you good. Jack will land at the bottom room."
Rather reluctantly Deb followed the man into the building.
"Here you are," he said, pulling a bench from the wall, and motioning her to a seat. "You mustn't think I bear you a grudge for what you did last night," he continued, pleasantly.