It seemed a very long journey. It was just as they were going through a rather squalid district near Cricklewood that the golden chance occurred to him. The fares had somewhat thinned. There were scarcely a dozen people in the ’bus. Next to him barely a yard away he observed a poor woman with a baby in her arms. She had a thin, angular, wasted face, and her clothes were threadbare but neat. A poor, thoroughly honest and deserving creature, making a bitter fight of it against the buffets of a cruel world. Edwin’s heart was touched. Here was his chance. He noticed that from her wrist was suspended a shabby black bag, and the bag was open. He would slip up near her and drop in a half-crown. What joy and rapture when she arrived home and found the unexpected treasure! An unknown benefactor! Edwin chuckled and wormed his way surreptitiously along the seat. Stealthily he fingered his half-crown and hugged it in the palm of his left hand. His heart beat with the excitement of his exploit. He looked out of the window opposite and fumbled his hand towards the opening in the bag. He touched it. Suddenly a sharp voice rang out: “That man’s picking your pocket!” An excited individual opposite was pointing at him. The woman uttered an exclamation and snatched at her bag. The baby cried. The conductor rang the bell. Every one seemed to be closing in on Edwin. Instinctively he snatched his hand away and thrust it in his pocket (the most foolish thing he could have done). Every one was talking. A calm muscular-looking gentleman who had not spoken seized Edwin by the wrist and said calmly: “Look in your bag, Madam, and see whether he has taken anything.” The ’bus came to a halt. Edwin muttered: “I assure you—nothing of the sort—” How could he possibly explain that he was doing just the opposite? Would a single person believe a word of his yarn about the half-crown? The woman whimpered: “No,’e ain’t taken nothin’, bad luck to ’im. There was only four pennies and a ’alfpenny anyway. Dirty thief!” “Are you goin’ to give ’im in charge?” asked the conductor. “Yer can’t if ’e ain’t actually taken nothin’, can yer? The dirty thievin’ swine tryin’ to rob a ’ard workin’ ’onest woman!” “I wasn’t! I wasn’t!” feebly spluttered Edwin, blushing a ripe beetroot color. “Shame! Shame! Chuck ’im off the ’bus! Dirty sneak! Call a copper!” were some of the remarks being hurled about. The conductor was losing time and patience. He beckoned vigorously to Edwin and said: “Come on, off you go!” There was no appeal. He got up and slunk out. Popular opinion was too strong against him. As he stepped off the back board, the conductor gave him a parting kick which sent him flying on to the pavement. It was an operation received with shrieks of laughter and a round of applause from the occupants of the vehicle, taken up by a small band of other people who had been attracted by the disturbance. He darted down a back street to the accompaniment of boos and jeers.