A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 13

"Oh, what will Jack say when he hears that it's gone!" moaned Deb.

"Tell me apout it," said the kindly German woman.

She took the excited girl in her arms, and stroking the soft, curly hair, tried to calm Deb as best she could.

In a nervous voice the girl told her story. She was on the verge of hysterics, and it was only Mrs. Snitzer's quick sense of comprehension that enabled her fully to understand the situation.

In about ten minutes Mr. Snitzer returned. The look upon his face told plainly that he had failed in the pursuit.

"It vas no use," he said, "I couldn't see nodding of him;" and he dropped into a chair exhausted.

Deb's grief was hard to witness. It was bad enough to have Jack away, but to have some one steal his precious model, the idea of his life, was too dreadful to contemplate.

"I shall never get over it," she sobbed; "I ought to have been more careful!"

Mrs. Snitzer let her cry it out. Experience had taught her that it would do no good to check the flow of tears. She motioned her husband to leave, while she herself made preparations to stay all night.

As the hours wore on Deb for a while forgot the model in her anxiety concerning Jack's welfare. As long as she could remember, her brother had never remained away over night, and whether by premonition or otherwise, she was positive something dreadful had happened.

With the first break of day she was on the watch. She prepared no breakfast, nor did she touch that which the German woman generously offered.

Deb wandered up and down the street for two hours.

Still no Jack.

She visited the neighbors. Had this one seen him? No. Perhaps that one had? Not since yesterday morning.

Suddenly she grew very pale, and with faltering steps approached the jail.

The doorkeeper greeted her with evident surprise.

"What brings you here this morning?" he asked.

"My brother has been missing since last night," replied Deb, in a choking voice, "and I thought that perhaps you had--had locked him up again!"

"Why, no. Haven't seen him since he left," replied the man. "Missing, eh!" He gave a low whistle, "Hope he hasn't jumped his bail."

"What do you mean?"

"Run away to escape trial."

"Jack wouldn't do that."

"Can't tell. Fellows do unexpected things sometimes. So you don't know where he's gone?"

"No."

The doorkeeper reflected for a moment.

"Didn't he accuse somebody else of being the cause of the fire?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; he was almost certain it was done by a man named Mosey."

"And I believe this Mosey couldn't be found?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then maybe your brother has a clue, and is on the man's track."

This put the affair in a new light.

"Perhaps you are right," said Deb, slowly.

"Guess I am. Hope so, anyway."

"Thank you."

The girl breathed more freely when she got to the street. There was a good deal of consolation in what the doorkeeper had said.

She walked over toward the tool works, and saw Mont at one of the windows. A second later the young man came out with a packet of letters.

"I've just finished what remained of the work," he said. "Now I won't have hardly anything to do until we start up again."

He was surprised to learn that Jack had not yet put in his appearance.

"The doorkeeper must be right," he observed reflectively. "Who it was though, that stole the model, I can't imagine. Tell you what I'll do.

I'll post these letters, and then walk out to that farmer's place and find out what I can."

When Deb returned home she found a man and a boy in the hall, waiting for her.

"Are you Miss Willington?" asked the man, politely.

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'm sorry, but unless you are able to pay the rent that is due, I have orders to put you out of the house."

Deb shrunk back in horror.

"Out of the house?" she repeated!

"Yes, ma'am, Mr. Hammerby served you with a three days' notice to quit, I believe?"

"He did--two days ago."

"Three days----"

"No, only two."