Tom watched the old gentleman start into the store, reading on the way the book in which he was so interested. Then Tom saw something else. Dr. Spidderkins’ pocketbook--an old-fashioned wallet--was half-way out of his pocket, and likely to drop to the sidewalk. Our hero sprang forward to reach the wallet before it should fall. He grasped it, and was pulling it from the doctor’s pocket, intending to restore it to him, when he was startled to hear a voice exclaim: “Ah! You young rascal, I caught you in the very act!” Tom turned, with the pocketbook in his hand, to behold Barton Sandow confronting him. “What do you mean?” asked the boy. “What do I mean? You’ll soon see what I mean? Trying to steal the doctor’s wallet, eh? I’ll have you arrested!” “I wasn’t trying to steal it!” declared Tom, indignantly. “It was falling out of his pocket, and I caught it to give it back to him.” “That’s a likely story! You’re a thief; that’s what you are!” “What’s that? What’s the matter?” asked the aged physician, suddenly turning, as he became aware that something unusual had happened. “This boy from the book store has just stolen your pocketbook!” said Mr. Sandow. “He’s got it in his hand now.” “My pocketbook! Bless my soul! So it is; and I have a hundred dollars in it!” “I didn’t steal it!” cried Tom again. “It was dropping out, and I caught it!” “Hold him, doctor, until I get an officer!” called Mr. Sandow, as he looked down the street, and saw a policeman approaching. “We’ll soon have him behind the bars!” CHAPTER IX TOM LEARNS SOMETHING Poor Tom was much distressed. What he meant to be an act calculated to benefit the old doctor, was likely to turn to his disadvantage, for he could not but admit that appearances were against him. It did look, to a casual observer, as though he had taken the pocketbook and was about to run away with it. “This boy a thief?” exclaimed Dr. Lemuel Spidderkins as he looked at Tom. “I don’t believe it! He’s the boy who brought me the books. He’s an honest lad if ever I saw one.” “Well, your eyesight isn’t very good,” remarked Mr. Sandow sneeringly. “I saw him steal the pocketbook.” “Oh, it’s my pocketbook you’re talking about, is it?” asked the doctor. “Certainly. What did you think we were speaking about?” asked his brother-in-law. “Why, I thought you meant one of these books. Bless my soul, that is my pocketbook. I forgot about it for the moment, I was thinking so much about this book.” Tom did not know what to make of the aged man. Certainly his memory was very short, for in one breath he talked of his wallet, and the next he forgot he had mentioned it. “Better look and see if he took any of the money out,” suggested Mr. Sandow. “The policeman will be here in a minute.” “I didn’t take any money!” insisted Tom. The aged physician opened the wallet and examined it.