"There's a pocketbook on the sidewalk," put in a man in the crowd that had quickly gathered.
"So it is." He picked it up. "You rascal! You thought to get away in fine style, didn't you?" he continued to me.
For a moment I was too stunned to speak. The un-looked-for turn of affairs took away my breath.
"I didn't pick his pocket," I burst out.
"Yes, you did."
"It isn't so. He's a swindler and is trying to get me into trouble."
"Here! here! none of that!" broke in the officer. "Tell me your story," he said to Mr. Allen Price.
"I was coming along looking in the shop windows," began my accuser, "when I felt a hand in my pocket. I turned quickly and just in time to catch this fellow trying to make off with my pocketbook."
"It is a falsehood, every word of it," I declared.
"Shut up!" said the officer, sternly. "Please go on."