"It was a morocco purse," and the girl described the purse Rupert had in his pocket.
"Young man we will have to search you," said the guard. "If you have a purse in your pocket, produce it."
Rupert did so mechanically.
"There!" said the girl, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you? Give it to me and I won't say anything more about it."
"I can't do that," said Rupert, sturdily, "for it belongs to me."
"What barefaced depravity!" groaned a severe-looking old lady opposite. "And so young, too."
"You're right, ma'am. It's shocking," said the girl. "I didn't think he'd go to do it, but you can't tell from appearances."
"Young man, you'd better give up the purse," said the guard, who was quite deceived by the young woman's assurance.
"No, sir!" said Rupert, pale but resolute. "The purse is mine, and I will keep it."
"Did you ever hear the like!" said the girl. "You'd better call an officer. I did mean to get off here, but I'll stay till I get my purse."