"The boy had no chance. Come, sir, I believe you are masquerading. Let me see. Here is a card—Luke Denton. Ha! I begin to see what it all means."
With a quick and unsuspected movement, the detective grasped the hat of the pretended Quaker, and next seized his wig, which came off readily in his hands, displaying to the gaze of the astonished passengers the dark hair and the face of a man of thirty-five, instead of an old man of over sixty.
"The pickpocket that jumped from the train!" exclaimed Paul, in excitement.
"I recognize him now," said the conductor. "This is clearly a plot to get you into trouble."
"Yea, verily," chimed in the witty young man.
"I'll clip your feathers some time, young man!" said Denton, scowling at the speaker.
"My Quaker friend," said the detective, "you are wanted for that little affair on the cars the other day."
He produced a pair of handcuffs. Luke Denton struggled vigorously, but the conductor assisted, and his hands were soon securely fastened.
"I congratulate you, Paul," said the conductor. "It was a mean plot, and might have succeeded. But I never doubted you."
"I know you didn't, Mr. Bates. I shall never forget that," said Paul, gratefully.