Leonard put up his hand, and found that his turquoise pin was pulled half-way out of his scarf. He said angrily, "Then why don't you take the thief in charge?" And he pointed at the sickly-looking man who stood close by.
"Because he was too quick for us. He's on the other side of the river long before this."
"Why, there he stands!" cried Leonard, pointing again at the shabby figure.
"Begging your pardon, young sir, this is him that has saved your pin from them two thieves. You owe him many thanks, and something more substantial, in my humble opinion."
Then Leonard understood the affair, and how the poor delicate man had prevented the smart colleagues from making off with the valuable pin given him by his late mother, and therefore very greatly precious to him. He turned to his defender with warm thanks.
The two policemen sauntered away.
"I am awfully obliged to you, I'm sure," said Leonard. "You don't look well."
"No," replied the poor man; "I have had sickness and sorrow lately, and a little thing upsets me. I shall be better in a few minutes. You put your pin in your pocket, sir; and do not show any jewellery when you come through these shady slums."
"I think I must have come wrong."
"What street do you want?"