"Well, yes, sir," admitted the plain-clothes man with reluctance. "I have."

"You were to keep your eye on us until the pocketbook reached its owner."

"That's about it, sir. Not that I personally have the least suspicion that a gentleman like you would--"

"That is all right, my man. I perfectly understand your position," Mr.

Tolman cut in. "After all, you have your duty to do and business is business. We'll just telephone Mr. Ackerman that we are coming so that we shall be sure of catching him, and then we will go right up there."

"Very well, sir."

Stephen's father started toward the telephone and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, paused and turned.

"Steve," he said, "I believe you are the person to communicate with Mr.

Ackerman. Call him up and tell him you have found his purse and that you and your father would like to come up to his house, if it will be convenient, and return it."

"All right, Dad."

"You will find his number on this slip of paper, sonny," the detective added, handing the lad a card. "He is not at his office. He went home to lunch in the hope that he had left the pocketbook there."

After some delay Stephen succeeded in getting the number written on the card. A servant answered the summons.

"May I speak to Mr. Ackerman, please?" inquired the lad. "He is at luncheon? No, it would not do the least good for me to tell you my name for he would not know who it was. Just tell him that the boy who sat beside him this morning on the Fifth Avenue bus--" there was a little chuckle. "Oh, he will be here directly, will he? I thought perhaps he would."

A moment later a cheery voice which Steve at once recognized to be that of the steamboat man came over the wire:

"Well, sonny?"

"I found your bill book, Mr. Ackerman, and my father and I would like to bring it up to you."

"Well, well! that is fine news!" cried the man at the other end of the line. "How did you know who it belonged to?"

"Oh, I--we--found out--my father and I," stammered the lad. "May we come up to your house with it now?"

"You would much better let me come to you; then only one person will be inconvenienced," the New Yorker returned pleasantly. "Where are you staying?"

"At the Manhattan."

"You must not think of taking the trouble of coming way up here. Let me join you and your father at your hotel."

"Very well, Mr. Ackerman. If you'd rather--"

"I certainly should rather!" was the emphatic answer. "I could not think of bringing two people so far out of their way."

"There are three of us!" squeaked Stephen.

"Three?"

"Yes, sir. We have another person--a friend--with us," explained the boy, with quiet enjoyment. How easy it was to laugh now!

"All the more reason why I should come to you, then," a.s.serted Mr.

Ackerman. "I will be at the Manhattan within half an hour. Perhaps if you and your father and your friend have the afternoon free you would like to go to some sort of a show with me after we conclude our business. Since you are here on a holiday you can't be very busy."

Stephen's eyes sparkled with merriment.

"I don't know whether our friend can go or not," he replied politely, "but I think perhaps Dad and I could; and if we can we should like to very much."

"That will be excellent. I will come right along. Not only shall I be glad to get my pocketbook back again but I shall be glad to see you once more. I told you this morning that I had a feeling we should meet some time. Whom shall I ask for at the hotel?"

"Stephen Tolman."

With a click the boy hung up the receiver.

"Mr. Ackerman is coming right down," said he, addressing his father and the detective with a mischievous smile. "He has invited the three of us to go to the matinee with him."

"The three of us!" echoed the plain-clothes man.

"Yes," returned the lad. "I told him we had a friend with us and so he said to bring him along."

"Good heavens!" Donovan e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Mr. Tolman laughed heartily.

"Not all the thieves you arrest take you to a theater party afterward, do they, Officer?" he asked.

"I said from the first you were gentlemen," Mr. Donovan a.s.serted with humor.

"But couldn't you go?" inquired Steve, quite seriously.

"Bless you, no, sonny!" replied the man. "I am from headquarters, you know, and my work is chasing up crooks--not going to matinees."

Nevertheless there was an intonation of gentleness in his voice, as he added, "I am obliged to you just the same, for in spite of my calling I am a human being and I appreciate being treated like one."

CHAPTER IX

AN ASTOUNDING CALAMITY

Mr. Ackerman was as good as his word, for within half an hour he presented himself at the hotel where he found Mr. Tolman, Mr. Donovan and Steve awaiting him in their pleasant upstairs room. As he joined them his eye traveled inquiringly from one to another of the group and lingered with curiosity on the face of the detective. The next instant he was holding out his hand to Stephen.

"Well, my boy, I am glad to see you again," said he, a ring of heartiness in his voice.

"And I am glad to see you, too, Mr. Ackerman," Steve replied, returning the hand-clasp with fervor. "This is my father, sir; and this"--for a second he hesitated, then continued, "is our friend, Mr. Donovan."

With cordiality the New Yorker acknowledged the introductions.

"Mr. Donovan," explained Mr. Tolman, scanning Mr. Ackerman's countenance with a keen, half-quizzical expression, "is from headquarters."