"I don't understand you," said the pickpocket loftily.
"Look here, mister," said Ben, impatiently; "you know well enough what I mean. You took a letter with money in it out of my pocket. Just hand it back, and I won't say anything about it."
"You're an impudent young rascal," returned the "gentleman," affecting to be outraged by such a charge. "Do you dare to accuse a gentleman like me of robbing a ragmuffin like you?"
"Yes, I do," said Ben, boldly.
"Then you're either crazy or impudent, I don't know which."
"Call me what you please; but give me back my money."
"I don't believe you ever had five dollars in your possession. How much do you mean to say there was in this letter?"
"Fifty dollars," answered Ben.
The pickpocket had an object in asking this question. He wanted to learn whether the sum of money was sufficient to make it worth his while to keep it. Had it been three or four dollars, he might have given it up, to avoid risk and trouble. But on finding that it was fifty dollars he determined to hold on to it at all hazards.
"Clear out, boy," he said, fiercely. "I shan't stand any of your impudence."