“I have all the sympathy in the world for you, Tom, but I haven’t got time to express it,” said the visitor. “I came here to talk business. I must have my money, that is the long and short of it.”
“But I have none,” answered the prisoner. “The police have it all, except the ten thousand dollars, which I deposited subject to your order.”
“You lie!” cried Wilbur, seating himself on the cot beside the broker.
“What I say is the truth.”
“I am not a fool quite,” remarked the visitor, “nor am I a child to be taken in and done for by your gammon. Do you think that I, for a moment, believe that you had everything in an office safe? No, that won’t do.”
“I was going to use the money that afternoon,” said Smith, “but did not. I intended to deposit it and would have done so, but I was arrested. I’ll tell you what I will do.”
“What’s that?” interrupted Wilbur.
“I’ll give you an order for all that is coming to you on the police property clerk,” continued the broker. “I can do no more.”
Smith’s visitor laughed at the proposition, and the prisoner lost his temper.
Under ordinary circumstances he would have feared Wilbur, but he did not now.