[CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PICKPOCKET.]
Such a sight as this is by no means uncommon in a large city, and of course Paul had witnessed it many times. But for one circumstance, he would have given the young man a passing glance, and gone on. But he observed that the young man was followed. The person following was also a young man, rather flashily attired, and, as Paul thought, of suspicious appearance. It seemed to him clear that he had designs upon the first young man, whose condition was likely to make him an easy prey to an unscrupulous acquaintance.
“Where have I seen that man before?” thought Paul.
He was puzzled for a moment, and then he remembered that he had strayed one day into a court room, and seen him as a prisoner at the bar, charged with picking a pocket.
“That’s what he’s after now,” thought Paul. “I will prevent him if I can.”
The telegraph boy moderated his pace, so as not to attract the attention of the man in the rear, but kept a close watch over him.
Finally the pickpocket came to a sudden resolution, and quickening his pace came up with the man he was following.
“Excuse me, my friend,” he said, smoothly, “but I see you are in need of assistance. Won’t you take my arm? I’ll take you home, if you wish.”