"And you expect me to believe that story?" sneered the speculator.
"It's the truth," replied Deb, bursting into tears. "I'm sure Jack will come back. The model was stolen by a man who said my brother had sent him for it."
"And are you positive that your brother did not send him for it?"
"Almost, sir, because the man ran away with it when I promised to send it by some one else."
"Humph! Well, we'll see; I'll let the matter rest until to-morrow, and then we'll have a settlement."
With these words Mr. Benton pulled his hat more tightly than usual over his small, round head, and tripped down the stairs and out of the building.
Deb's heart sank like a clod. Her last hope was gone. She had counted on getting help from the speculator, and the result had been directly the opposite.
"Rec'on you won't get anything out of him," was the constable's grim comment. He had listened in silence to the brief interview, and now arose to continue his disagreeable but necessary duty.
"Isn't there any way at all of having this thing stopped?" asked the girl, bitterly.
"No; unless you get the money," was the man's reply, and pulling off his coat, he took up a couple of chairs, and marched down stairs.