not seen the movements of the man with the red mustache.
"No! no! I did not do it!" cried the young lady, shrinking back. "I did not touch the piece, sir."
"Well, but it's right at your feet, madam; you must have let it fall," said the auctioneer harshly.
"I did not, sir."
"Well, who did, then?"
"A man who ran out as soon as the statuary was broken."
"Oh, pshaw! It isn't likely a man would run away like that."
"The young lady speaks the truth, sir," put in the boy previously mentioned. "The man shoved the statue toward her, and when she drew back it slipped from his hand to the floor. She was not in the least responsible."
"Thank you for that, Matt Lincoln," said the young lady, with a grateful nod. "I shall not forget this service."
"Oh, that's all right, Miss Bartlett," returned the boy, blushing. "I like to be of service to you."
"You evidently seem to know this young lady?" said the auctioneer, turning to Matt Lincoln.
"I do; she is the stenographer at our office. That's how I came to notice her when she came in."
