James Haynes turned pale. There was a sudden change in public opinion.

It was he who now had become an object of suspicion.

"Young man," said the clergyman, solemnly, "what could have induced you to enter into such a wicked conspiracy against the poor boy?"

"Mind your own business!" said Haynes, rudely. "It is a lie."

"It is the truth," said the volunteer witness, calmly.

Here a policeman became visible from the car-window, leisurely walking his beat on the western sidewalk.

"There's a policeman," said Frank's new friend. "Call him, and have the boy arrested."

"He would be cleared by false testimony," said Haynes, sullenly. "I have my money back, and will let him go."

"Then," said the stranger, rising, and displaying the badge of a detective, "I shall arrest you on a charge of conspiracy."

Haynes was fairly caught in his own trap.

"This is a put-up job, gentlemen," he said. "Am I to be robbed first, and arrested afterwards for exposing the thief?"

He looked about him appealingly; but in vain. Public sentiment was wholly against him now.

"O you ould villain!" said a stout Irish woman, "to try to ruin the poor b'ye. Hangin's too good for you."

This was rather an extreme sentiment; but Haynes saw that he was in peril. He gave an unexpected spring, and, reaching the platform, sprang out, running up a side street.

"Do you know him?" asked the detective of Frank.

"Yes, sir."

"How do you account for his hostility to you?"

Frank briefly recounted the story already known to the reader.

"He can easily be found then."

"I hope you will not arrest him, sir," said Frank. "He has been pretty well punished already, and I don't think he will trouble me again."

"If he does, send for me," and the detective handed Frank his card and address.

"It is fortunate for me," said the telegraph boy, "that you saw him put the money in my pocket."

"You would have experienced some inconvenience; but the story you have told me would have cleared you with the jury."

"My young friend," said the clergyman, "I owe you an apology. I too hastily a.s.sumed that you were guilty."

"It looked like it, sir. You were quite justified in what you said. Mr.

Haynes did not appear to relish your remarks to him," added Frank, laughing.

"His crime was greater and meaner than the one charged upon you. To steal is certainly a grave offence,--yet sometimes it is prompted by necessity; but a deliberate attempt to fasten a false charge upon a fellow-creature is vastly more atrocious."

"So it is, sir," said the old Irish woman, nodding a.s.sent vigorously. "I quite agree wid your honor. It is owtracious."

The pa.s.sengers smiled at the old woman's mistake; but it was clear that they agreed with her in sentiment.

Meanwhile the car had been speeding along, and was near its terminus.

Frank bethought himself that he had been carried considerably beyond his destination.

He pulled the bell, and, as he got out, he said, "Thank you all for taking my part."

"We don't quite deserve that," said one of the pa.s.sengers, after Frank had left the car. "I was at first of opinion that the boy was guilty."

"We have been saved from doing a great injustice," said the clergyman.

"It should be a lesson to all of us not to be too hasty in our judgments."

James Haynes in his hurried exit from the car fully believed that he would be pursued and arrested. He was relieved to find his fears groundless. But he was disappointed at the failure of his scheme. He had carefully prepared it, and for several days he had been in readiness to carry it into execution whenever he should meet Frank. This morning had brought the opportunity; but it had miscarried.

"But for that cursed detective I would have carried the thing through,"

he muttered. "He spoiled all. I _hate_ that boy!"

But, though revengeful, Haynes was prudent. He gave up the thought of injuring Frank because he saw that it would be dangerous to himself. He did not remain long in New York, but soon joined his confederate in Hartford.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FRANK BECOMES A GOOD SAMARITAN.

The close of the month came, and Frank laid aside his uniform. He was a telegraph boy no more.

The superintendent shook hands with him cordially, and bade him good-by.

"Come and see us sometimes," he said. "I wish you all success. Your services have been very satisfactory, and you have gained an excellent reputation."

"Thank you, sir," said Frank. "I have tried to do my duty. Good-by, boys!"

He shook hands with all his young comrades, with whom he was very popular. They knew of his good fortune, and were disposed to regard him as very rich. Six thousand dollars in a boy's eyes is a fortune.

"Now you're rich, Frank, I suppose you won't notice the likes of us,"

said Johnny O'Connor.

"I hope you don't think as badly of me as that, Johnny," said Frank, earnestly. "I am not rich; but, even if I were, I should always be glad to meet any of you. If I am ever able to do a favor to any of you I will."

"I believe you, Frank," said Johnny. "You was always a good feller."

"Where's Tom Brady?" asked Frank, looking about him. "Is he out on an errand?"