"I guess you know. I mean that I want you to hand back the money and jewelry that you stole from me."
"Do you mean to insult me, or are you mad?" almost shouted the alleged clergyman. "Do you dare accuse me, me, David Ferguson, of theft?"
"That's about the size of it," replied Al, coolly. "And, remember, I know now that your name is no more David Ferguson than mine is."
"Do you dare——" began the fellow.
"That'll do," interrupted Al. "Bluff will not work with me. Are you going to return my property?"
He had not uttered the last word when "Mr. Ferguson" abruptly turned on his heel and started to run.
He did not go far, however. Out went Al's foot, and the next moment the adventurer lay sprawling on the pavement. He was helped to his feet by Al and the brakeman, who both kept a tight hold on him.
The sanctimonious expression had entirely vanished from the fellow's face, which now wore a look of rage and fear.
The transformation was wonderful; he did not seem the same man.
"Well," he said, "what are you going to do about it?"