Burnett started, and a look of dismay overspread his face.
“My name is Percy Burnett,” he said, haughtily, recovering himself.
“Is it? It used to be Jim Dobson, well known to the police of Chicago, Cincinnati and St. Louis. You were recognized at St. Joe. Now will you hand over the money?”
With a muttered curse Burnett, alias Dobson, threw Tom’s pocket-book on the ground.
“Now I suppose I may go,” he said, sullenly.
“When the boy has examined his wallet to see if the money’s all there.”
“I know it is,” said Tom, “he hasn’t had time to open it.”
“Then you can go, Mr. Dobson. Good-by! Take my advice and lead a better life in the future.”
“Curse your advice!” said Burnett, as he strode rapidly away, leaving Tom and his new friend together in the gathering darkness.