"Will you please let me see the paper?"

"He dated it a day back," explained Deb.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"If he did, you should have complained of it at the time. I am a constable, and we people always go by the paper. I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Where will you--you put us?" faltered the girl, with a white face.

"Set your goods in the street," was the matter-of-fact reply. The constable was old in the service, and many cruel scenes had hardened his heart.

"Into the street!" wailed the poor girl.

"That's what I said, unless, of course, you can raise the eight dollars that's due."

"I haven't it now. But my brother expected to get fifty dollars from a man for an interest in an invention of his."

"When?"

"To-day. But my brother is away."

"Can't you get it?"

"Perhaps I can," replied Deb, hesitatingly. "I'll try, anyway. Will you wait till I come back?"

"Certainly," replied the constable, and he took a chair, and began to read the morning paper that he had brought with him.

While Deb was getting ready for her urgent errand, there was a noise outside, and Mr. Benton himself appeared.

"Where is your brother?" he demanded, without any preliminary salutation.

"I don't know, sir," replied the girl, her breath almost taken away by the suddenness of the question.

"They told me he was missing," continued the speculator. "I suppose that you have the model safe?"

"No, sir. It was stolen last evening."

Deb began to cry again. Mr. Benton caught her arm roughly.

"I don't believe a word you say!" he exclaimed, in harsh tones. "It's only a plot to do me out of my rights! But it won't work, understand that, it won't work. Either you must produce the model, or else I'll have you arrested for fraud!"

CHAPTER X.

DRIVEN FROM HOME

Deb looked at Mr. Benton in horror. It was only after several seconds that she fully realized the terrible accusation which he had brought against her.

"A plot!" she faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Only this," continued Mr. Benton, "your brother has run away to escape trial, and he has taken the model with him. You have helped him to do this. But it won't work. I pay my way, and a bargain's a bargain. If I have to pay the thousand dollars, I'll have the model or I'll know the reason why."

"But how do you know Jack has run away?"

"If he hasn't, where is he?"

"He went to a job in the country yesterday morning and hasn't returned yet."

"And you expect me to believe that story?" sneered the speculator.

"It's the truth," replied Deb, bursting into tears. "I'm sure Jack will come back. The model was stolen by a man who said my brother had sent him for it."

"And are you positive that your brother did not send him for it?"

"Almost, sir, because the man ran away with it when I promised to send it by some one else."

"Humph! Well, we'll see; I'll let the matter rest until to-morrow, and then we'll have a settlement."

With these words Mr. Benton pulled his hat more tightly than usual over his small, round head, and tripped down the stairs and out of the building.

Deb's heart sank like a clod. Her last hope was gone. She had counted on getting help from the speculator, and the result had been directly the opposite.

"Rec'on you won't get anything out of him," was the constable's grim comment. He had listened in silence to the brief interview, and now arose to continue his disagreeable but necessary duty.

"Isn't there any way at all of having this thing stopped?" asked the girl, bitterly.

"No; unless you get the money," was the man's reply, and pulling off his coat, he took up a couple of chairs, and marched down stairs.

Deb jumped up and followed him. Her heart beat wildly, and something in her throat nearly choked her. What could she do? Her thoughts ran to Mrs. Snitzer. She knew the kind German woman needed money as much as any of the tool works people did, but perhaps she could give some help, or offer some advice.

She flew to the door of her neighbor's apartments, and knocked eagerly.

No answer came, and then she knocked more loudly than ever.

Suddenly she remembered that Mrs. Snitzer had signified her intention of taking her whole family to her brother's farm for a few days, and possibly until the end of the shut-down.

"It's no use, they're all gone!" she sighed. "There is no help to be had!"

Meanwhile the constable worked rapidly. In his time he had been in situations where the neighbors had interfered with him, and he wished to get away as soon as possible.

Soon there was quite a respectable stock of furniture and other household effects piled upon the sidewalk. Deb packed up the smaller stuff as fast as she could--the china and crockery in baskets, and the clothing and linen in the two old family trunks. Truth to admit, the constable did not hurry her a bit more than he could help.

Presently Deb went below to see that no one should walk away with some of their belongings. Her eyes were red and swollen, and a more wretched girl could not have been found in all Corney.

As she sat down on one of the upturned wash tubs she wondered what she was to do. She had no neighbors, and with the exception of the Snitzers they were all strangers to her--they on their part deeming her "stuck up," and perhaps rejoicing to see her placed in her present humiliating position.

The wild hope of Jack's return came constantly to her mind, and twice she ran down to the corner vainly straining her eyes to catch sight of his well-known form.