"I've got a watch right here," mumbled the newcomer, still leaning heavily on the counter. "Here it is. But your light is so low I can't see the hands. Turn it up."
Walter obligingly complied, and the fellow tried again to see the time, but failed. "Strike a match," he went on; "I ain't going to no theatre if it's as late as you say it is."
Walter did not like the man s manner, but not caring to enter into any dispute, he lit a match as requested, and held it down close to the time piece, which lay in the man's open palm.
"Only eight-twenty," grumbled the fellow, slowly. "I knew you was off. You don't—What's up?" And suddenly he straightened himself and stared at Walter.
"I want to know where you got that watch," demanded the youth, excitedly.
"That watch?" The man fell back a pace. "What do you—ahem—why do you ask that question, boy?"
"Because I know that watch," was Walter s ready reply. "It was stolen from my uncle in New York only a few weeks ago!"
"Was it?" The man's face changed color.
