tepping out on the
platform, jumped from the car. Just at that moment Ben put his hand into
his pocket, and instantly discovered the loss of the letter. He
immediately connected it with the departure of his fellow-passenger,
and, with a hasty ejaculation, sprang from the car, and started in
pursuit of him.

CHAPTER XIX.

WHICH IS THE GUILTY PARTY?

It was an exciting moment for Ben. He felt that his character for
honesty was at stake. In case the pickpocket succeeded in getting off
with the letter and money, Mr. Sampson would no doubt come to the
conclusion that he had appropriated the fifty dollars to his own use,
while his story of the robbery would be regarded as an impudent
fabrication. He might even be arrested, and sentenced to the Island for
theft. If this should happen, though he were innocent, Ben felt that he
should not be willing to make himself known to his sister or his
parents. But there was a chance of getting back the money, and he
resolved to do his best.

The pickpocket turned down a side street, his object being to get out of
the range of observation as soon as possible. But one thing he did not
anticipate, and this was Ben's immediate discovery of his loss. On this
subject he was soon enlightened. He saw Ben jump from the horse-car, and
his first impulse was to run. He made a quick movement in advance, and
then paused. It occurred to him that he occupied a position of advantage
with regard to his accuser, being respectably dressed, while Ben was
merely a ragged street boy, whose word probably would not inspire much
confidence. This vantage ground he would give up by having recourse to
flight, as this would be a virtual acknowledgment of guilt. He resolved
instantaneously to assume an attitude of conscious integrity, and frown
down upon Ben from the heights of assumed respectability. There was one
danger, however, that he was known to some of the police force in his
true character. But he must take the risk of recognition.

On landing in the middle of the street, Ben lost no time; but, running
up to the pickpocket, caught him by the arm.

"What do you want, boy?" he demanded, in a tone of indifference.

"I want my money," said Ben.

"I don't understand you," said the pickpocket loftily.

"Look here, mister," said Ben, impatiently; "you know well enough what I
mean. You took a letter with money in it out of my pocket. Just hand it
back, and I won't say anything about it."

"You're