"I have not yet returned to my home; I have been on an errand of mercy. And now I must ask you to excuse me, for I am greatly fatigued." "Wait a minute." "Well, what is it?" "I suppose you have often heard it said that justice and mercy ought to go hand in hand." "It is a very true saying, my lad." "Well, you say you have just been on an errand of mercy; suppose you now perform an act of justice." "What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Ferguson, uneasily. "I guess you know. I mean that I want you to hand back the money and jewelry that you stole from me." "Do you mean to insult me, or are you mad?" almost shouted the alleged clergyman. "Do you dare accuse me, me, David Ferguson, of theft?" "That's about the size of it," replied Al, coolly. "And, remember, I know now that your name is no more David Ferguson than mine is." "Do you dare----" began the fellow. "That'll do," interrupted Al. "Bluff will not work with me. Are you going to return my property?" He had not uttered the last word when "Mr. Ferguson" abruptly turned on his heel and started to run. He did not go far, however. Out went Al's foot, and the next moment the adventurer lay sprawling on the pavement. He was helped to his feet by Al and the brakeman, who both kept a tight hold on him. The sanctimonious expression had entirely vanished from the fellow's face, which now wore a look of rage and fear. The transformation was wonderful; he did not seem the same man. "Well," he said, "what are you going to do about it?" "I'm going to hand you over to the police in short order if you don't return my property." "If I give it all back," demanded the man, "will you agree not to make any charge against me?" "Don't agree to anything of the sort," interrupted the belligerent brakeman. But Al said: "I ought not to do it, but I have no time to attend to the case, so, if you hand back what you took from me you can go." "Mr. Ferguson" fished the roll of bills from his pocket and handed it to Al, who carefully counted it. "Now, the watch and ring," he said. The "crook" produced the timepiece and gave it to its owner. "I can't return the ring," he whined. "Why can't you?" "I've pawned it." "Give me the ticket, then." "I can't do that, either." "How is that?" "I've lost it." "Well," said Al, "that's unlucky--for you. Now, see here, my reverend friend, I have no more time to waste. If your story is true, you'll come along with me to the police station. If it is a lie, which I believe, you had better hand over that ring in quick time." "I----" "I advise you to hurry, for here comes a policeman, and if the ring is not on my finger by the time he gets here, I shall hand you over to him as sure as I am standing here." The "crook" hesitated no longer. "Here you are, then," he said. As he spoke, he thrust the ring into Al's hand. "Now," he asked, in a voice that trembled with nervousness, "may I get out?" "Skip," responded Al, laconically.