Gerald followed the reporter to the nearest station-house, and gave an account of the robbery. Notes were taken and he was asked, "If we arrest this man will you appear against him?"

"I want to leave town to-morrow, if possible."

"You will have to stay longer than that. However, we will hurry up the trial."

By this time Gerald was hungry.

"Is there a restaurant near by?" he said.

"Yes. I am going out to lunch myself; you can accompany me."

The reporter led the way to Fourteenth Street, where Gerald found a neat and satisfactory restaurant. The robbery had not spoiled his appetite, and he did justice to a generous meal.

When they left the restaurant the reporter asked: "Where are you going now?"

"I don't know. I have no particular plans."

"Then come with me. There has been a fire on Third Avenue, and I am commissioned to inquire particulars of the losses and insurance. It will give you an insight into city life."

"I shall be glad to go with you."

They visited the scene of the fire, and half an hour was consumed by the reporter in gathering the needed information. Then they walked down the avenue toward Fourteenth Street.

All at once Gerald clutched his companion's arm.

"Look, Mr. Brown," he said; "there is the man that robbed me!"

A few rods in advance, walking with his usual sauntering gait, was Turner, known to Gerald as William Brand.

"You are right. That's the man."

"What shall I do?"

"Keep him in sight till you see a policeman. Then ask to have him arrested."

Usually it is said that a policeman is never in sight when he is wanted; but in this case there was an exception. One of the bluecoats turned into Third Avenue from a side street. Gerald darted forward and touched him on the arm.

"What's wanted, sonny?" asked the officer.

"I have been robbed of fifty dollars, and there's the man that robbed me."

"Are you sure about this? I don't want to make a mistake."

By this time the reporter came up.

"It's all right, officer," he said. "I know the man."

"And who are you, sir?"

"A reporter on the Evening——"

The policeman regarded him with respect. He felt that it was well for him to keep in with reporters on the daily papers.

"All right, sir," he answered. "You will accompany me to the station-house?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll make the arrest. Keep close at hand."

Increasing his pace, the officer caught up with Brand and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned quickly, and when he recognized who it was that had touched him, his face underwent a quick change. But he put on a bold front.

"How are you, captain?" he said, with assumed nonchalance. "You are Officer Benson, are you not?"

"No."

"I thought you were. Benson is a fine fellow, and an old-time friend of mine."

"That's all very well, but I have business with you. You are charged with the robbery of a wallet containing fifty dollars."

"This must be a joke!" said Brand, in assumed surprise. "Who makes the charge?"

The officer pointed out Gerald.

"Never saw him before in my life!" he exclaimed.

"Perhaps you never saw me, Mr. Turner?" struck in the reporter.

"Yes; you live in the same house with me."

"Exactly. You lured this boy to your room, and, after robbing him, locked him in. I released him."

"Was this the story he told you?"

"Yes."

"All I can say is, that if he got into my room it was for the purpose of robbery."

Gerald was about to make an indignant denial, when the officer said: "You'll have to go with me, Mr. Brandon Turner, or whatever your name is. I am not running a police court. You can defend yourself in the court-room."

"But this is an outrage!" blustered Brand. "To be arrested on a false charge made by a young rascal!"

"Come along! I didn't recognize you at first, but I believe you are Jim Hayden, whose picture is in the Rogues' Gallery, in Mulberry Street."

In spite of further remonstrance, Brand was taken to the police station, and, at Gerald's request, was searched. The missing wallet was found in his pocket, and proved to contain the lost money with the exception of five dollars, which had probably been spent.

He was tried the next day, and sentenced to three years in State's prison. Altogether Gerald was delayed three days. Then, with his restored money in his pocket, he started for Chicago. His new friend the reporter accompanied him to the depot of the Pennsylvania Railroad at Jersey City.

"I wish you good luck, Gerald," he said. "If you triumph over obstacles as you have done here, there is little doubt that you will come out successful in the end. I shall be glad if you will write me a line occasionally."

"I will do so, Mr. Brown. You have done me a great service, which I shall not readily forget."

Gerald remained two days in Chicago. By Mr. Nugent's advice he put up at the Palmer House, and devoted a part of his time to looking about the city. He was very much impressed by the bustling activity and energy of the Chicago people. He felt that life there and in New York was very different from the hum-drum existence of Portville. Yet there was no lack of attachment for his native village; and when, on the second day, the clerk handed him a letter with the familiar postmark, he opened it eagerly. The letter, as he surmised, was from Richard Childs, to whom alone he had said anything of his destination.

This was the letter:

"Dear Gerald—It seems odd for me to sit down to write you a letter in Chicago. I cannot realize that you are so far away. What a lot you must have seen already! I only wish I were with you, instead of standing behind the counter in Mr. Tubbs' grocery store.

"You will ask how I like it. Well, I don't like it. It is hard work and long hours, and I don't find much interest in selling butter, sugar and other groceries over the counter. Still, we have had a share of excitement. You will be surprised to hear that your old friend Brandon has been discharged, and a new clerk hired from Dana. You remember the trouble you had, and the charge of stealing which was brought against you. I believe that up to the time of your going away Mr. Tubbs still believed you to be a thief. You can't wonder at it so much, for Brandon was constantly talking against you. But you were not without friends. Mr. Barton, from the savings bank, had an interview with Mr. Tubbs, and persuaded him to lay a trap for Brandon. Two marked bills—fives—were placed in the drawer, and presently one disappeared. I don't know whether Tubbs thought that I had taken it or not, but a day or two later Mr. Sullivan, who keeps the livery-stable, handed one in payment of his grocery bill.

"'Where did you get this five-dollar note?' asked Tubbs.

"'Why, isn't it good?' asked Sullivan.

"'Yes; but I have a reason for asking. I hope you haven't forgotten who gave it to you?'

"'No; I don't have so many fives handed in that I can't remember. That bill was given me by your clerk Brandon. He hired a team to go to Sherborn last Sunday and paid me with this bill.'

"'You could swear to that?'

"'Yes; certainly.'

"Of course this was convincing, and Brandon was summoned. When confronted with the charge he turned pale, and tried to brazen it out, saying that Sullivan was mistaken. But the livery man persisted in his assertion, saying that he noticed a cross in red ink on the bill when he took it. Upon that Brandon was discharged, and I understand his father has agreed to pay Mr. Tubbs fifty dollars to save him from arrest and prosecution. His successor, Mr. Toner, is a great improvement on him, and is much more satisfactory to me.

"I see your dear stepbrother Abel now and then. He asked me if I had heard from you, knowing our intimacy; but I answered 'No.' He was wondering whether you were still in New York. I could have told him, but I didn't. He isn't very popular in the village. He tries to boss the other boys, but doesn't succeed very well. The boys are getting up a baseball club. He wanted to be captain, but only received one vote—his own. The captain chosen is my honorable self. What do you think of Captain Childs? Sounds great, doesn't it? Write as soon as you can, and let me know what has happened to you.

"Your true friend,

"Richard Childs."