"What is there besides money in the pocketbook?" asked Andy following up his advantage. "I think there are a few postage stamps," answered Robinson at a guess. "You certainly have a good deal of assurance, young man," said the old gentleman in a tone of reproof. "If I were in this gentleman's place I would summon a policeman at once." "I prefer to give the boy a chance," said Robinson, who had his own reasons for not bringing the matter to the knowledge of the police. "I don't want to get him into trouble. I only want my money back." "You are more considerate than he deserves," said Andy's critic. "And by the way, here is the hotel detective. Officer, will you come here, please? Here is a case that requires your attention." The hotel detective, a quiet-looking man, approached. Robinson was far from thanking the old gentleman for his officiousness. He feared recognition. "What is the matter?" asked the detective, coming up and eying Robinson sharply. The old gentleman volunteered an explanation. The detective seemed amused. "So this man charges the boy with robbing him?" he asked. "Yes, sir; and we all believe that he has good grounds for doing so." "I don't believe it," said the gentleman who had already spoken for Andy. "What have you to say, my boy?" asked the detective, turning to Andy. "Only that I made the acquaintance of this man on the train. He induced me to go to a small hotel on the outskirts of the city, on the ground that I could board there cheaply. What I saw and heard there excited my suspicions, and I left the place without his knowledge." "Taking my pocketbook with you. I incautiously laid it on the bed. When I went up later I found that it and you had disappeared." "Do you hear that, officer?" asked the old gentleman, triumphantly. "I do," answered the detective. Then, turning to Robinson with a change of tone, he asked: "How did you get so much money, Tom Maitland?" Robinson turned pale. He saw that he was recognized. "I will let the matter drop," he said. "I don't want to get the boy into trouble." He turned toward the door, but the detective was too quick for him. "You will have to go with me," he said. "You have been trying a bold confidence game. I shall have to lock you up." "Gentlemen," said Robinson, turning pale, "will you permit this outrage?" "It is an outrage!" said the old gentleman, hotly. "My friend," inquired the detective, "do you know this man?" "No; but--" "Then let me introduce him as Tom Maitland, one of the cleverest confidence men in Chicago." He produced a pair of handcuffs, which he deftly slipped over the wrists of Percival Robinson, and led him out of the hotel. Andy was satisfactorily vindicated, and, it must be admitted, enjoyed the discomfiture of the old gentleman, who slunk away in confusion.