"Where is it?" I asked Miss Harden peremptorily.
"Plague take the old cat," thought Morris. "I suppose I may as well tell the truth."
"The fact is," he stammered, "it was stolen from me on an Erie train to-day by a pickpocket."
"And you let him do it? What could you be thinking of, Ferdinand?"
"You have no idea how expert these fellows are, Josephine," said Morris, who certainly ought to know.
"I think a man must be inexcusably careless or simple," returned the spinster, "to allow a man to steal a ring from his finger. Do you suspect anybody?"
"Yes; I sat beside a young man dressed up as a countryman. He was such a good imitation, that I was positively taken in. He looked as if he had been driving the plow all his life."
"And he stole the ring?"
"He must have done it. There was no one else near who had the chance."
"But how could he slip it off your finger without your knowing it?"