“Unfortunately I am obliged to take the next train to Boston. That’s where I live. I haven’t time to hunt up the owner.”
“Then I suppose you’ll take the pocket-book with you,” said Dick, with assumed simplicity.
“I should like to leave it with some honest fellow who would see it returned to the owner,” said the man, glancing at the boys.
“I’m honest,” said Dick.
“I’ve no doubt of it,” said the other. “Well, young man, I’ll make you an offer. You take the pocket-book—”
“All right. Hand it over, then.”
“Wait a minute. There must be a large sum inside. I shouldn’t wonder if there might be a thousand dollars. The owner will probably give you a hundred dollars reward.”
“Why don’t you stay and get it?” asked Frank.
“I would, only there is sickness in my family, and I must get home as soon as possible. Just give me twenty dollars, and I’ll hand you the pocket-book, and let you make whatever you can out of it. Come, that’s a good offer. What do you say?”
Dick was well dressed, so that the other did not regard it as at all improbable that he might possess that sum. He was prepared, however, to let him have it for less, if necessary.