"Then why do you accuse him? Please state the circumstances." "A few minutes since I was paid twenty dollars by Mr. Holbrook of the hotel, in settlement of his weekly bill for groceries, and being somewhat hurried I laid it down on the desk while I was filling an order." "Go on!" "Five minutes since Bert Barton came in and took up his position where he is now standing. He asked me for two quarts of kerosene. I filled his can for him, and he gave me a twenty-dollar bill from which to take payment. I was naturally surprised, and looked for the bill I had left on the desk. _It was gone!_" Mr. Jones gazed about the circle triumphantly. "What do you say to that?" he asked. Sympathetic eyes were turned upon Bert. Things certainly looked black for him. "I don't think I need say any more," added the store-keeper. "I want you to arrest that boy." Bert looked at the faces that encircled him. He saw that they believed him guilty, and a feeling of hot indignation possessed him. "Bert, my boy," said Officer Drake, "what have you to say to this?" "That the twenty-dollar bill I handed to Mr. Jones belongs to my mother. I know nothing of the bill he says he laid on his desk." "That's a likely story!" put in Mr. Jones, in a tone of sarcasm. "How many more twenty-dollar bills have you got at your house? I wasn't aware that your mother was so wealthy." Again opinion was unfavorable to poor Bert. His mother's straitened circumstances were well known, and it certainly did seem improbable upon the face of it that she should have a twenty-dollar bill in her possession. "This was the only twenty-dollar bill that my mother had," replied Bert. "Oh, indeed! I thought as much," said Mr. Jones significantly. "Mr. Drake, do you intend to arrest that boy?" he added angrily. "I have no warrant," returned the officer. "If you will swear that you saw him take the bill, I will assume the responsibility." "I didn't see him take it," the store-keeper again admitted reluctantly; "but it stands to reason that it is mine." Here a young man in the outer circle stepped forward. He was a summer boarder at the hotel, and Bert knew him slightly. "I am a lawyer," he said, "and if Bert will place his interests in my hands I will see what I can do to throw light upon this mystery." "I shall be very glad to do so, Mr. Conway," answered Bert. "No lawyer is needed," sputtered Jones. "The case is as plain as can be. I have no more doubt that the boy took my bill than if I had seen him do it." "That isn't legal proof; it is only an assumption," said the young lawyer. "Squire Marlowe is, I believe, your magistrate here, and I agree in behalf of my client to have the matter brought before him to-morrow morning. Meanwhile, Mr. Jones, will you hand the twenty-dollar bill in dispute to officer Drake?" "Why should I? The bill is mine," said the merchant sullenly. "That remains to be proved. Do I understand that you refuse to give up the bill?" "I do?" answered Jones doggedly.