"Tut, tut, young man! Do you expect me to believe such a cock-and-bull story as that? Not I! Just you hand over that money, or I'll call a policeman without delay."
Mark gazed at his step-father in horror. Evidently the close-fisted lawyer meant just what he said, and the youth had a dim mental vision of being dragged to prison and of being convicted of an awful crime.
"I haven't got the money, and I don't intend to be locked up!" he burst out, and with a dexterous twist he freed himself from his step-father's grasp and bounded down the street.
"Stop! Stop!" yelled Jadell Powers. "Stop, I say! Somebody stop him! He's a thief!"
He ran after the boy, but Mark was a swift runner and soon put a goodly distance between himself and his pursuer. Fortunately, no other people were close at hand, and by the time some men and boys joined in the chase, Mark was three squares away and still running like a frightened deer.
"He shan't catch me!" he muttered to himself, as he kept up his running.
He was somewhat hampered by his valise, which was heavy, and on reaching a street where ran a line of stages, he jumped aboard a passing vehicle. As the driver was behind time, he whipped up his horses, and before long Mark was a good mile from home. Nobody seemed to be in pursuit and this caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.
Yet the youth felt strangely depressed. Contrary to his expectations, he was leaving home under a heavy cloud.
"Unless the real thief is caught, Mr. Powers will always think I took that money," he reasoned, dismally. "Perhaps I am to blame, too, for I left the office during business hours and forgot to lock the door."
At last Mark found himself in the shipping district of the city. It was growing dark, and the majority of the business people had taken themselves to their homes. As the stage came to a corner, he alighted and stared around him, not knowing where to go next.