"And would I be admitted to the best society in the land if I were untruthful or dishonest?" continued Joe, while his two friends wondered what in the world he meant by addressing the stranger in his own words. "Hand over what you have found, if you want me to make a deal with you. We're from the country, you know, and consequently we are suspicious of every stranger we meet in the city. If you had your passport—I mean your wheel—with you now, why then I shouldn't be afraid of you."
"Haven't I showed you that I am perfectly willing to trust you to return this big wad of greenbacks to the owner? Of course if I had the faintest suspicion that you would not give it to him—"
"I was taught to be honest, the same as you were. Being a wheelman, I have no more intention of taking advantage of you in any way than you have of taking advantage of me."
So saying, Joe thrust his hand into his pocket. Observing this movement, which seemed to be indicative of a desire on the young wheelman's part to have the negotiations brought to a close, the stranger stepped closer to him and slyly passed over the purse.
"Be quick," said he, in a cautious whisper. "Some one might see us."
"What if they do?" replied Joe, speaking in his usual tone of voice. "This is a fair, square and honest transaction, as I understand it. If it isn't—"
"Of course; of course it is. But don't publish it. Be in a hurry, for a policeman might happen along."
"Let him happen. We haven't done anything to make us afraid of a policeman."
"There it is. Now hand out the twenty-five dollars."
As soon as the fingers of Joe Wayring's right hand closed about the article in question, he took the other hand out of his pocket; but he brought it forth empty.