“Oh, you do, do you? Well, I’ll smash your face if you talk that way to me, you dirty old Jew.” The pawnbroker had the chance he wanted, for he shouted out loud and his clerk came running in. “Call an officer, call an officer, for pity’s sake. This man is going to fight me.” “I wasn’t going to hurt the old swab,” cried Tom as the policeman laid his fingers on his strong arm, “but the fool said I stole that bundle, and it’s my clothes.” “Well, you come along with me, my young man, for I think I’ve seen you before.” “Where?” asked Tom. “In front of Mr. Benson’s home, on Fifth avenue, last night, and there was a great robbery committed there a little later.” CHAPTER V. “A robbery?” muttered Tom. “Well, old pard, it wasn’t me.” While the argument was going on a little fellow slipped like a rat from his hiding place, and would have scurried away but the pawnbroker held him tightly. “Where were you, you little devil?” whispered he. “Under the counter.” “And heard all?” “Every word.” “Then keep your mouth shut, and I’ll help you out of the watch scrape.” The officer saw that there was another prisoner for him. “Ah, Jimmie Farren,” cried the detective. “You are the youngster that stole that watch? Now come with me.” “I didn’t steal the watch; I just found it.” Tom threw back his head and laughed. “We are innocent, aren’t we, pard? Well, if we have to go with the police, come along like a man, but they will soon ship me, for I am as innocent as a new-born lamb.” He played his fingers on the end of his nose to the pawnbroker and left the shop, following the detective. “When I come back, I’ll fix you, you old skate,” said he just as the door slammed in his face. “Ah, ha, so he will come back, will he? Well I guess he won’t. That was a smart thing that George Benson thought of, and I tell you any one that gets in that man’s path he will knock out quicker than a wink.” * * * * * At the station house Tom stood before the captain and gave a history of himself. He told how he was a former ward of Mr. Benson, how he had lived there for many years and then of his sudden dismissal. “And what are you here for?” asked the sergeant. “Because he raised a row in a pawnshop.” “And what were you going to pawn?” “My clothes in that bundle,” and the sailor pointed to the package in the officer’s hand. “What’s in it?” “A new suit of clothes I bought in England, and we landed in town yesterday, and I haven’t drawn any money yet, so had to pawn my clothes.” “Open the package,” ordered the sergeant. The officer obeyed and out rolled a small box of velvet which the man picked up doubtfully, and all were looking at the box as the policeman handed it over to the leader. “What’s this?” he asked of Tom Cooper. The young sailor was looking at the box in mystified silence.