“There, curse you!” he muttered, throwing down the wallet. “Now stop following me!”
Paul picked up the pocketbook, and ceased the pursuit. He had accomplished all he intended, and was willing to let the thief go free, now that he had restored his plunder.
He retraced his steps to Sixth Avenue, where he found the stranger waiting for him.
“Here is your pocketbook,” he said. “You have had a narrow escape.”
“By Jove! I should think I had,” answered the young man. “How much money do you think there is in that wallet?”
“Is it a large sum?” asked Paul, his curiosity aroused.
“Fifteen hundred dollars—perhaps a little more. You’re a brave boy. But for you I should have lost it.”
“I am very glad to have been of such service,” said Paul. “If the thief only knew what a purse he had lost he would feel like murdering me.”
“What made you suspect him? You must have sharp eyes.”