"I do not know what you mean, sir."
"Did not Solomon Meyer tell you that I wanted you to call, with reference to the four thousand dollars still unpaid on our patent transaction?"
"Solomon Meyer told me that I was too late, and that you did not care for my invention."
Mr. Armstrong sprang from his chair. "And he never gave you my check for a thousand dollars?"
"Never; though I heard that he had it;" and Stephen Trimble related what the anarchist had told him.
Mr. Armstrong unlocked a safe, and took from it the contract in regard to the patent. "Is not this your signature?" he asked.
"No, sir: I never saw the paper."
"Then Solomon Meyer is a swindler."
"Very likely, sir."
"Go home; say nothing, and I will have him arrested. Stop—a little money may not come amiss to you just now. Here is fifty dollars on our account. I will see you again to-morrow, but I have an important appointment now."