He stopped and said: "Am I wanted here?"
"Yes," replied Lane, quickly; "I want you to arrest that boy."
"On what charge?"
"Robbery. I took pity on him, and though I knew scarcely anything of him, I let him occupy the same room with myself at a hotel on the Bowery last night. He stole some Bank of England notes from my pocket while I was sleeping, and I want him arrested."
Scott's breath was quite taken away by the audacious misrepresentation of his treacherous acquaintance.
"Well, what have you to say?" asked the policeman.
"Only that this man was himself the thief, and stole the notes from me."
"You young rascal!" exclaimed Lane, in assumed indignation. "That is a likely story. I leave it to the officer which was more likely to have money to be taken—a gentleman like myself, or a boy like you."
"I think you will have to come with me," said the officer to Scott.
"But," put in John Schickling, "that man has told you a lie. He owes my mother nine dollars for room rent."