"Why—er—why——" he stammered and was unable to proceed.
"Didn't expect to see me quite so soon, did you?" returned Dave, pleasantly, and dropped into the seat beside him. "Nat, if it's all the same to you, I'll take my watch, my stickpin, and my money," he added, coldly.
"Your what?" exclaimed Nat. Then he stared blankly at Dave. "I—er—I don't understand you."
"Yes, you do. I want my things, and I want them at once!"
"I haven't got your things, and you needn't say I have!" retorted the money-lender's son. "Oh, I see how it is," he added, struck by a sudden thought. "You want to play another joke on me, don't you? Well, it won't work this time. I didn't touch your things, and you know it."
CHAPTER VIII
THE YOUTH IN THE BALCONY
For a moment Dave stared at Nat Poole in perplexity. He saw that the money-lender's son was in earnest. Like a flash he realized that something was wrong.