"How do I know? If I did, don't you suppose I'd go back and pick it up?"
"I thought perhaps you were afraid of discovery."
"Humph! I'm not skeered of any such constables as they have in Darbyville."
"But you must have some idea where you dropped it," went on Mr. Woodward, and I was astonished to see how coolly this man, who always pretended to be so straightforward, could inquire about stolen money.
"Not the least," responded John Stumpy. "There was two hundred and sixty dollars in all. I took out ten and left the rest in the pocketbook it was in. I've got the ten dollars, and that's all. And that's why you've got to come down," he went on deliberately. "I'm off for Chicago to-night, and I'm not going back empty handed."
"You think I ought to pay you for your own carelessness," returned Mr. Woodward, coolly.
"Not a bit of it. You owe me every cent I ask."
"I don't owe you a penny."
"You owe me a thousand dollars, and for the last time let me tell you, you've got to pay or take the consequences." And John Stumpy brought his fist down on the table with a bang.
"Hold on; don't make so much noise," cried Mr. Aaron Woodward in alarm. "There is no use of rousing the household."