“Mean? Why, that you were so long getting the loan—”
“Say stealing the notes. It would be more like the truth,” said Harry shortly.
“I won’t. I say you were so long getting the loan that I came to see what you were about, and you flew at me and knocked me down with the big ruler. Took me for a watchman, I suppose.”
“But when?—where?” cried Harry excitedly.
“Where? By the safe; inner office. What a fool you were!”
“Impossible!” thought Harry, as his confusion wore off. “Look here,” he cried aloud, “this is a mean, contemptible lie. You have the money; give it me, I say.”
“Supposing I had it,” snarled Pradelle, “what for?”
“To restore it to its owner.”
“Well, seeing that I haven’t got the money I say you shall not give it back. If I had got it I’d say the same.”
“You have got it. Come, no excuses.”