street entered a
University place car.

"Evenin' paper, mister?" said a ragged newsboy, whose garments were
constructed on the most approved system of ventilation.

"What have you got?"

"Evenin' Post, Mail, Express!"

"Give me an Express. Here's ten cents."

"I haven't got but three cents change, mister."

"Never mind the change," said Mr. Montgomery, in a fit of temporary
generosity, occasioned by his good luck.

"Thank you, sir," said the newsboy, regarding Mr. Montgomery as a
philanthropist worthy of his veneration.

Felix Montgomery leaned back in his seat, and, with a benevolent smile,
ran his eyes over the columns of the Express. Among the paragraphs
which attracted his attention was one relating to a comrade, of similar
profession, who had just been arrested in Albany while in the act of
relieving a gentleman of his pocketbook.

"Jerry always was a bungler," said Mr. Montgomery, complacently, to
himself. "He can't hold a candle to me. I flatter myself that I know how
to manage a little affair, like this, for instance, as well as the next
man. It'll take a sharp detective to lay hold of me."

It might have been thought that the manner in which he had gained
possession of the ring would have troubled Mr. Montgomery, but it was
many years since he had led an honest life. He had made a living by
overreaching others, and his conscience had become so blunted as to
occasion him little trouble. He appeared to think that the world owed
him a living, and that he was quite justified in collecting the debt in
any way he could.

About twenty minutes brought the car to Amity street and Mr. Montgomery
signaled the conductor, and, the car being stopped, he got out.

He walked a few rods in a westerly direction, and paused before a
three-story brick house, which appeared to have seen better days.

It was now used as a boarding, or rather lodging-house. The guests were
not of a very high character, the landlady not being particular as long
as her rent was paid regularly. Mr. Montgomery ascended the steps in
a jaunty way, and, opening the door with a passkey, ascended the front
staircase. He paused before a room on the third floor, and knocked in a
peculiar manner.

The door was opened by a tall woman, in rather neglected attire.

"So you're back," she said.

"Yes, my dear, home again. As the poet says, 'There is no place like
home.'"

"I should hope there wasn't," said Mrs. Montgomery, looking about her
dis