"They were a couple of thieves, that's certain," said Randy, bluntly. "The money was to come to us and nobody else." "Where did you lose that letter?" "I lost it on the road between Naddy Brook and Spruceville," replied Earl, and gave some of the particulars. The full story of his uncle's offer to Randy and himself followed, to which Mr. Stone listened closely. He was a fair judge of human nature, and saw at once that the two boys were no sharpers and that their story was most likely true. "Well, if you are the real Portney brothers, we are out exactly three hundred dollars," he said, after considerable talking. "I paid over that money in good faith, too, on the strength of the letter and the identification." "We had nothing to do with that," answered Earl, stoutly, feeling he must stand up for his rights. "Of course not, but--Just wait here a few minutes, and I'll try to find that clerk from the restaurant who identified the rascals." Mr. Stone put on a silk hat and went out, to be gone nearly or quite half an hour. He returned accompanied by another man--a police official--to whom the particulars of the occurrence had been given. "That identification was also part of the swindle," the broker explained. "I could not find the clerk at the restaurant, and I am convinced now that he was not the man he made me believe he was." "But what about our money?" said Earl, coldly, thinking the broker might try to shift the responsibility of the affair. "If you can find some reliable party known to us to identify you, I will pay the sum to you," was the answer. "But I've got to be sure of the identification this time--and you can't blame me for that," added the broker, with a short laugh. "No, we can't blame you for that," repeated Earl, yet at the same time wondering who there was in that strange city who knew them. "I don't know of any one here who knows us," put in Randy, reading his elder brother's thought. "I wish Uncle had sent the money in some other way." "See here," put in the police official. "Since those swindlers had the letter that was lost up near where you come from, perhaps you know the men. Mr. Stone, can't you describe them?" As well as he was able the broker did so. But the description was so indefinite that both Earl and Randy shook their heads. "I know a dozen men who look a good deal like that description," said the older brother. "It's possible they were lumbermen like ourselves." "Yes, they did look like lumbermen," replied Mr. Stone. "That is why I was not so particular about their identification." For another half hour the matter was talked over, and then as it was getting time to close up the office for the day, Earl and Randy left, to find some one to identify them, were such a thing possible. At the corner of the block both halted. "I'm blessed if I know what to do," were Randy's words. "I can't think of a soul who knows us here."