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 scarf-pin, 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. Then we came
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