up,
with a screeching of brakes, in front of a rather dingy building. "I
only hope we're in time, and that Burton hasn't gone yet."

He jumped out of the cab, leaving Ruth and Alice sitting there.
Frantically he threw open the door and rushed up the shop stairs.

"Oh, I do hope he is in time," breathed Ruth, softly.

"So do I," spoke Alice. "I wonder how men can be so mean as to want
to take what isn't theirs?"

"I don't know, dear. Oh, hasn't this been an exciting day?"

"I should say it had. If ever--there's Russ now!" she interrupted
herself to exclaim. "Oh, Ruth. It looks as though we were too late!"

For Russ, with a dejected look on his face, was crossing the pavement
toward the cab.

"It--it's gone," he said brokenly. "Simp Wolley was here a half-hour
ago and got it!"

"But how could he?" asked Alice in surprise. "Who gave it to him?"

"Mr. Burton. There was a forged order, supposed to be from me, and
the machinist handed over the model," and Russ extended a crumpled
and grimy bit of paper.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE PURSUIT

"How did it happen, Russ?"

"Where have the men gone with the model?"

"Can't you get some trace of them?"

Thus Ruth and Alice questioned their friend, as he stood at the open
window of the taxicab, looking at the crumpled paper.

"I--I don't understand it all," he confessed. "After I knew those
fellows were after my patent I cautioned Mr. Burton about letting any
strangers see it."

A figure came into the doorway of the machine shop. It was that of an
elderly man, with steel-rimmed spectacles. His face was grimy with
the dirt of metal.

"I'm awfully sorry, Russ," he said, contritely. "But of course I
thought the note was from you, and gave up the model."

"Did Simp Wolley get it?" asked Alice, eagerly.

"No, a uniformed messenger boy came for it," explained Russ. "That
was it; wasn't it, Mr. Burton?"

"Yes. And I had no suspicions. You know you had said you might want
the model some time in a hurry, to demonstrate to possible buyers,
and of course when the boy came with the note I supposed you had sent
him. I'm not familiar enough with your handwriting to know it," he
added.

"No, I suppose not," admitted Russ. "And yet if you had been this
might have deceived you. It is very like my writing. I guess Wolley
must have had a sample to practice on."

"It all seemed regular," went on Mr. Burton. "I was working away,
making some of the finished appliances from yo