No sooner did Frank understand the fellow's purpose than he pursued him, and seized him by the arm.
"What do you want of me?" demanded the rogue, roughly. "I am in a hurry and can't be detained."
"I want you to give me that bundle which you are trying to steal from my friend, John Riley."
The rogue's countenance changed.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, to gain time.
"I mean that I heard your conversation with him, and I know your game. Come back, or I will call a policeman."
The young man was sharp enough to see that he must give up his purpose.
"There, take the bundle," he said, tossing it into Frank's arms. "I was only going for a cigar; I should have brought it back."
When John Riley came downstairs, with the letter in his hand,—for he had been unable to find any man named Conant in the building,—he found Frank waiting with the parcel.
"Holloa, Frank! Where's that man that sent me upstairs? I can't find Mr. Conant."