The next morning he met Dave in the reading room, where he had gone to glance over the newspapers. Unknown to Dave he approached the lad and dropped into his coat pocket a pocket-book containing ten dollars and a visiting card upon which was written his name, Peter Rackley. Then he walked out into the hallway to the door of the hotel, stopped suddenly, and gave a cry: "My pocket-book! It is gone!" "What's that, sir?" demanded the hotel clerk, who happened to be passing. "My pocket-book is gone! It must have been stolen from me!" "Did it have much in it?" "Ten dollars or more." "Perhaps you dropped it, sir." "Hardly. I had it quarter of an hour ago, when I was in the reading room. Ha, I have it! That young man took it from me." And Pete Rackley started back to the reading room. "What young man?" "The fellow who brushed up so close to me at the table. There he is!" Rackley ran up to Dave and caught him by the shoulder. "You thief!" he ejaculated. "Give me back my money!" Of course Dave was taken completely by surprise. "Your money?" he repeated. "I know nothing of your money." "You must have it. Sir, will you have him searched?" went on Pete Rackley to the clerk. "Certainly, he can search me if he wishes," said Dave, promptly. "I am no thief." A few more words followed, and the clerk began to search Dave. Soon the pocket-book was brought to light, much to Dave's astonishment and dismay. "Ha! what did I tell you!" ejaculated Pete Rackley. "Call an officer at once. I want this young rascal arrested on the spot!" and he caught hold of Dave again, that the youth might not escape. CHAPTER IV AN OCEAN MONSTER Dave knew not what to say. Here he was accused of a robbery of which he knew absolutely nothing. The very prison doors seemed opening to receive him. But while he stood there, not knowing what would happen next, an unexpected friend stepped up in the shape of a stranger, who had been reading in a corner. "Excuse me, but there is something wrong here," said the stranger. "That man is no thief, to my way of thinking." "What do you know of this?" demanded the hotel clerk. "A short while ago I saw that man come up behind this young man and slip that pocket-book into his pocket. I thought at the time he was playing some friendly joke, but it seems he was up to something more serious." At these words Pete Rackley turned deadly pale. He was caught in his own trap, and he knew it. "It's false!" he began. "I--I----" "I saw the action, too," put in another stranger. "I thought it very queer." "We'll have the police investigate this," said the hotel clerk, and told a hallman to call an officer of the law. This did not suit Pete Rackley at all. "I--I guess there is some mistake," he stammered, and turning, he ran from the room and from the hotel. Although he had left a trunk behind him, he never came back to claim the property.