"Yes, you did," returned the merchant, flatly. "I think, Fer—Stumpy, I know a little more about you than you do about me."
Bitter hatred spread itself over the tramp's face.
"Oh, ho, you do, do you? Well, we'll see. 'Them laughs best as laughs last.' If you won't pay, I'm off."
He rose to his feet and reached for his hat, Mr. Woodward intercepted him.
"Where are you going?"
"That's my business. I want you to know I didn't come on all the way from Chicago for nothing."
"Are you hard up?"
"Yes, I am. I want money, and I'm going to have it."
"How about the two hundred dollars you stole last night?"
Stumpy hesitated.