"It's a lie! But I ought not to be surprised. I know you now. You were sent to the Island last summer for stealing. I remember seeing you on trial at Jefferson Market police court."
Suspicious glances were directed at Mark, for most people are inclined to believe evil of their neighbors—but the stout man only laughed.
"That is too thin, my friend!" he said. "Of course your motive in bringing a charge against this boy is plain."
"Let me out, sir!" stormed the crook.
"Madam, do you wish to bring a charge against this man?"
"No, let him go. I've got my pocketbook back, and that's all I want."
The stout man turned aside, and the adventurer sprang out of the stage and dashed down Thirty-Ninth Street in the direction of Third Avenue.
"I'm very much obliged to you, boy," said the old lady. "Did you really see that young man take my pocketbook?"
"I saw him with his hand in your pocket."
"I'm so sorry. He seemed so nicely dressed, too. I thought he belonged to a rich family."