“Ah! You young rascal, I caught you in the very act!”
Tom turned, with the pocketbook in his hand, to behold Barton Sandow confronting him.
“What do you mean?” asked the boy.
“What do I mean? You’ll soon see what I mean? Trying to steal the doctor’s wallet, eh? I’ll have you arrested!”
“I wasn’t trying to steal it!” declared Tom, indignantly. “It was falling out of his pocket, and I caught it to give it back to him.”
“That’s a likely story! You’re a thief; that’s what you are!”
“What’s that? What’s the matter?” asked the aged physician, suddenly turning, as he became aware that something unusual had happened.
“This boy from the book store has just stolen your pocketbook!” said Mr. Sandow. “He’s got it in his hand now.”
“My pocketbook! Bless my soul! So it is; and I have a hundred dollars in it!”
“I didn’t steal it!” cried Tom again. “It was dropping out, and I caught it!”