Graham shook off his transient dull spirits, and walked on, keeping a sharp lookout for a chance to fleece somebody. In front of a railroad ticket office he espied a stolid-looking German, who was trying to read the placard in the window.

Graham approached him, and said politely, "My friend, perhaps I can help you. Are you thinking of buying a railroad ticket?"

The German turned, and his confidence was inspired by the friendly interest of Graham's manner.

"I go to Minnesota," he said, "where my brother live."

"Exactly, and you want a ticket to go there?"

"Yes, I want a ticket. Do they sell him here?"

"No," said Graham. "That is, they do sell tickets here; but they ask too much."

"I will not pay too much," said the German, shaking his head decisively.

"Of course not; I will take you to a cheaper place."

"That is good," said the German, well pleased. "It is luck I meet mit a friend like you."

"Yes," said Graham, linking his arm in that of his new acquaintance. "I don't like to see a worthy man cheated. Come with me. How much money have you?"

This inquiry ought to have excited the suspicions of the German; but he was trustful, and answered promptly, "Two hundred dollar."

Graham's eyes sparkled.

"If I could only get the whole of it," he thought. But that didn't seem easy.

They walked through street after street till Graham stopped in front of an office.

"Now," said he, "give me your money, and I will buy the ticket."

"How much money?" asked his new acquaintance.

"I don't know exactly," said Graham carelessly. "Just hand me your pocketbook, and I will pay what is needed."

But here the German's characteristic caution came in.

"I will go with you," he said.

"If you do, I can't get the tickets so cheap. The agent is a friend of mine, and if he thinks it is for me he will give it to me for less.

Don't give me all your money. Fifty dollars will do. I will buy the ticket, and bring you the rest of the money."

This seemed plausible enough, and Graham would have got what he asked for, but for the interference of Tom, who had come up just in time to hear Graham's proposal. He had no difficulty in comprehending his purpose.

"Don't give him the money," he said. "He will cheat you."

Both Graham and his intended victim wheeled round, and looked at our hero.

"Clear out of here, you young vagabond!" said Graham angrily.

"This man wants to cheat you," persisted Tom. "Don't give him your money."

The bewildered foreigner looked from one to the other.

"This is no ticket office," said Tom. "I will lead you to one, and you shall buy a ticket for yourself."

"He wants to swindle you," said Graham quickly.

"You shall keep your money in your own hands," said Tom. "I don't want it."

"I go with you, my young friend," said the German, convinced by Tom's honest face. "The other man may be all right, but I go with you."

Graham protested in vain. His victim went off with Tom, who saw that he was provided with the ticket he wanted. His new friend tried to force a dollar upon him; but this Tom steadily refused.

"I'll get even with you yet!" said Graham furiously; but our hero was not disturbed by this menace.

Vincent, meantime, was making a tour of observation, ready for any adventure that might put an honest or dishonest penny into his pocket.

About half an hour later he found himself on the leading retail street in Cincinnati. In front of him walked a lady, fashionably attired, holding a mother-of-pearl portemonnaie carelessly in her hand. He brushed by her, and at the same moment the pocketbook was s.n.a.t.c.hed from her hand.

The lady screamed, and instinctively clutched Vincent by the arm.

"This man has robbed me, I think," she said. The crowd began to gather about Vincent, and he saw that he was cornered. Among the crowd, unluckily for himself, was Tom. By a skilful movement Vincent thrust the portemonnaie into our hero's pocket.

"You are mistaken, madam," he said coolly; "I saw that boy take your money."

Instantly two men seized Tom.

"Search him," said Vincent, "and see it I am not right."

The portemonnaie was taken from Tom's pocket, amid the hootings of the crowd.

"So young, and yet so wicked!" said the lady regretfully.

"I didn't take the money, madam," protested Tom, his face scarlet with surprise and mortification.

"Don't believe him, ma'am. I saw him take it," said Vincent virtuously.

Poor Tom looked from one to another; but all faces were unfriendly. It was a critical time for him.

CHAPTER XVII.

TOM'S ARREST.

To one who is scrupulously honest a sudden charge of dishonesty is almost overwhelming. Now, Tom was honest, not so much because he had been taught that honesty was a virtue, as by temperament and instinct.

Yet here he saw himself surrounded by hostile faces, for a crowd soon collected. Not one believed in his innocence, not even the lady, who thought it was such a pity that he was "so young and yet so wicked."