"What brought you here?" asked the young man.
"I was looking for Jack."
Meanwhile Corrigan had risen to his feet, and stood in a corner, his chagrin at being caught showing itself plainly upon his face. Jack faced him, his hand clenched, ready to strike instantly, if necessary.
"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?" demanded the young machinist.
Corrigan offered no reply. The sudden turn in affairs was something he could not understand. He bit his lip and tried to put on a bold and careless front, but the effort was a failure.
"He stole your model, Jack!" cried Deb.
"So I heard," replied her brother. "What have you done with my property?" he added to Corrigan.
"I haven't anything of yours," was Corrigan's cool reply. "It's all a mistake."
"No, it isn't, Jack; it's the truth," reiterated the girl earnestly.
"You went into my house and took that model by force," continued the young machinist. "You see, I know all about it, so you might as well give up the thing at once."