"What shall I do?" thought Ben, disturbed in mind. "Ought I not to warn the lady that she is in danger of losing her money?"
While he was hesitating the deed was accomplished. A pearl portemonnaie was adroitly drawn from the lady's pocket and transferred to that of the young man. It was done with incredible swiftness, but Ben's sharp eyes saw it.
The young man yawned, and, turning away from the lady, appeared to be looking out of a window at the head of the coach.
"Why, there is Jack Osborne," he said, half audibly, and, rising, pulled the strap for the driver to stop the stage.
Then was the critical moment for Ben. Was he to allow the thief to escape with the money. Ben hated to get into a disturbance, but he felt that it would be wrong and cowardly to be silent.
"Before you get out," he said, "hand that lady her pocketbook."
The face of the pickpocket changed and he darted a malignant glance at Ben.
"What do you mean, you young scoundrel?" he said.
"You have taken that lady's pocketbook," persisted Ben.
"Do you mean to insult me?"