"There may have been more," said the girl, finding she had made a mistake. "Yes, I remember now there was, for my sister paid me back some money she was owing me." "That won't do," said the lawyer, quietly. "The purse isn't yours." "If it isn't hers," said the old lady sharply, "how did she happen to describe it so exactly?" and she looked round triumphantly. "I could have described it just as accurately," returned the lawyer. "You're smart!" said the severe-looking old lady, with a sneer. "Not at all. Soon after the boy got in the car he took out the purse, so that anyone could see it. The person who charges him with taking it from her saw it in his hands, and scrutinized it closely. I understand now the object she had in doing so." "It's a shame," said the girl, with a last desperate effort at imposition. "It's a shame that a poor girl should be robbed, and a gentleman like you," she added spitefully, "should try to protect the thief." "So I say," put in the old lady, frowning severely at Rupert. "I don't know who you are, young woman, but I advise you to call an officer and have the young scamp arrested." Rupert felt uneasy, for he knew that in an arrest like this he might not be able to clear himself. "Why don't you ask the boy how much money there is in the purse?" continued the old lady. "Well thought of. My boy, can you tell me what the purse contains?" Rupert colored. He saw at once that he was in a tight place. He wished now that he had examined the purse when he left the house in Harlem. "No," he answered. "I do not know." "Didn't I tell you?" cried the old lady, venomously. Even the lawyer looked surprised. "How is it that you can't tell, if the purse is yours?" he asked. "Because, sir, it was given me this evening by a gentleman in Harlem, and I have not yet had time to examine it." "Your story may be true," said the lawyer, "but it does not seem probable." "Oho!" the old lady said, "the boy owns up that he is a thief. If he didn't get it from this young woman he stole it from a man in Harlem." Rupert glanced from one to the other, and he realized that things looked dark for him. CHAPTER IV. A FALSE REPORT. "What was the name of the gentleman in Harlem from whom you say you obtained the purse?" asked the lawyer. "Mr. Frank Sylvester," answered Rupert, promptly. The lawyer looked interested. "I know Mr. Sylvester," he said. "I live on the same street." "He gave me this basket of provisions also," added Rupert. "Why did he give you the purse?" "Because I met him down town feeling ill, and at his request went home with him." "The boy is all right," said the lawyer, looking satisfied. "Here is the purse. It is undoubtedly yours." "And where do I come in?" asked the young woman. "Is that boy going off with my money?" Just then they reached the next station, and among those who boarded the train was a policeman. The girl evidently recognized him, for she turned away to escape attention.