won't work. You must go back, explain matters, and settle up."
"I'll do nothing of the kind!" blustered the red mustached man. He had recovered from his first alarm. "I know nothing of the affair you have in mind. I have not been near an auction store to-day—for a month, in fact."
"That's a whopper!" exploded Matt. "You were in the place less than an hour and a half ago!"
"Nonsense, boy, you have got hold of the wrong man. Let me go."
"Not much I won't! You are the man, and you can't fool me."
"If you don't let go I'll call a policeman just as sure as my name is Paul Garden."
"I don't care what your name is, you've got to go back and set matters straight."
The man glared at Matt for a moment. Then, without warning, he pushed the boy backward. Matt was standing upon the edge of the steps leading to the insurance office at the time, and he went down with a crash into the wire-netting door, knocking a large hole into it.
Before Matt could recover the man darted down Wall street and around the nearest corner. Matt would have gone after him, but the proprietor of
