I happened to be returning from Queen Anne's Gate, where I had spent a busy morning's work upon a portrait, and I was due at my studio to meet another sitter. Having very little time to spare, I partook of a hasty cup of coffee and some light refreshment in lieu of lunch, and hastily jumped on to an omnibus going in the direction of Chelsea. After a brief interval a lady sitting in front turned round to me as we were passing Ebury Bridge and said, "Would you kindly ask the conductor for me if he will give me my change. I've spoken to him several times and without effect." "Certainly," I replied, and called to the conductor. "What do yer want?" he answered tersely, without turning his head. "I want you to give this lady her change as she is getting down almost immediately and says she has already asked you for it." "_You've_ got her change," he replied to my astonishment. "I must have given it to you by mistake." Finding that I only had the sum of twopence halfpenny in my pocket, a penny of which I was holding in readiness for my fare, I was not deceived by this convenient way of shifting the responsibility of fivepence on to my shoulders. But as his manners were so insolent to the lady and to myself, I was determined to ascertain the man's number. Of course he refused to give it me, and covered the badge with his coat. My destination was coming nearer every moment, and in spite of my having such little time to spare, I descended from the top of the omnibus to the footboard, and the man's insolence increased when he realized my resolve to proceed a little further until I gained my point. I was considerably hampered with a parcel containing a drawing-board in one hand and an umbrella in the other, but I tried to tug at the strap which held the badge, at which the conductor turned round suddenly and said:-- "No, you don't," and taking advantage of my having no available hand to protect myself, pushed me off the omnibus. I fell heavily on to the kerb, and in consequence hurt my arm considerably. At the same moment a tradesman who knew me rushed to my rescue and excitedly said:-- "I'll take your parcel ... you can rely upon me ... you know me, sir ... lose no time ... you catch 'em." I got on my feet with some difficulty and attempted to pursue the omnibus, but the conductor was pulling his bell violently and urging the driver to hurry. Finding it impossible to overtake them, I hailed a passing hansom and persuaded a policeman, who, for a wonder, happened to be near, to accompany me. We drove quickly, catching up the omnibus at its stopping place--Chelsea Town Hall--where we got down. The policeman, taking the case in hand, produced the usual note book, and proceeded to take the man's name and number (which had been the "_casus belli_"). When asked to state the case, the conductor said in unguarded tones:-- "The man's drunk, and he's got my money!"