"Your what?" exclaimed Nat. Then he stared blankly at Dave. "I--er--I
don't understand you."
"Yes, you do. I want my things, and I want them at once!"
"I haven't got your things, and you needn't say I have!" retorted the
money-lender's son. "Oh, I see how it is," he added, struck by a sudden
thought. "You want to play another joke on me, don't you? Well, it won't
work this time. I didn't touch your things, and you know it."
CHAPTER VIII
THE YOUTH IN THE BALCONY
For a moment Dave stared at Nat Poole in perplexity. He saw that the
money-lender's son was in earnest. Like a flash he realized that
something was wrong.
"See here, I want no more fooling, Nat," he said, sharply. "My watch and
chain, my scarfpin, and thirty-three dollars in bills were taken from
me, either by you or your companion. I want them back, and now!"
"Dave, you--er--you don't mean that you--you were--robbed?" Nat could
hardly utter the words. His teeth were fairly chattering with sudden
fright.
"I certainly was, if you want to call it by such an ugly name."
"But I didn't touch the things, you know I didn't!"
"Then your companion did."
"No, he didn't, he came away with me, you know that. All we did was to
tie you fast and throw that pillow over your face.
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