"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler:
"When I called here this morning I recognized you as the young man who stole an old lady's pocketbook in a Fifth Avenue stage not long since. Of course I knew that this was another scheme of yours to get hold of money that did not belong to you. If you had been all right I would myself have brought back the real diamond rings which your aunt wished to buy. Tell her not to put off her journey to Buffalo, as Mr. Swan has made up his mind not to send them.
"Yours as ever,
"A. D. T. 79."
"Then it was the telegraph boy, after all!" ejaculated Schuyler in a rage. "I only wish I had known it. Are you a friend of—the telegraph boy?"
"Am I a friend of Mark Mason? I should smile."
"Step in a minute, then!" said Schuyler, with an assumed friendliness.
As the unsuspecting Tom stepped inside the hall, the young man began to shower blows on his shoulders with a cane that he snatched from the hat rack.
Tom was for a minute dazed. Then his wits returned to him. He lowered his head and butted Schuyler in the stomach with such force that the latter fell over backwards with an ejaculation of pain.
Then Tom darted through the open door, but paused on the steps to say, "With the compliments of Tom Trotter."
Schuyler picked himself up, uttering execrations, and looked for the boy, but he was gone!