"I don't know for sure. Depends on how long it takes. Besides, I've other work, which can't be left."
"Ten dollars if it's ready in two hours," came from the stranger, making Jack open his eyes.
"Right!" he said promptly. "I'll do it. Leave the shank and the impression. I'll get at the job at once."
As a matter of fact it took our hero rather less than two hours to complete the task, for he was a quick workman, and this was a straightforward matter. In a very little while he had welded a piece of iron on to the broken shank, and had shaped it roughly to form the wards of the key. Then he placed it in the vice, and used a hack saw and file till all was completed.
"And I wonder why he's in such a hurry, and ready to pay such a figure for it," he wondered, as he put the finishing strokes. "Ten dollars would pay for more than window and key, and—jimminy!"
He gave vent to a shrill whistle, and stood looking out of the smoke-grimed window, his hand supported on a file. He was thinking of the stranger, and for the first time felt suspicious. What his suspicions were he could not say for the life of him. They were entirely intangible. But why did the man need that key? Was it actually for his front door, and, if so, how did he obtain the wax impression? Jack picked up the piece of wax and examined it.
"Certainly not old," he said emphatically. "This was moulded perhaps yesterday, or the day before. I wonder if——"
"Got it ready, youngster?" came a voice from the door, and looking there Jack saw the stranger. He had not come in his buggy on this occasion, but afoot; and as he spoke was gingerly stepping round the puddle and soft mud which existed near the door.
"Ready, sure," exclaimed Jack, reddening. "And I hope it'll do. You said it was for the front door?"
"Yes. Ye're right in one guess. It's the front door. That's a good job, lad. Let's see if it'll stand the pressure."