the young man when he came out from lunch."

The corners of her mouth twitched and her tears began to fall again, but
she wiped them away with her apron and proceeded steadily:

"But nothing turned out as I planned, for no sooner was the bill book in
my pocket than I was called away to help about the wraps at a lady's
luncheon upstairs. There were so many people about the hall that I had
no chance to restore the bill book to the lad's pocket without some one
seeing me and thinking, perhaps, that I was stealing. There was no help
but to take it with me, trusting they would not keep me long upstairs
and that I would get back to my regular place before the young gentleman
came out of the dining room. It was when I got out of the elevator in
the upper hall that I spied Dick, one of the bell boys I knew, and I
called to him; and after explaining that I couldn't get away to go
downstairs I asked him to take the wallet and put it in 47's pocket.
He's a good-natured little chap and always ready to do an errand, and
more than that he's an honest boy. So I felt quite safe and went to
work, supposing the young man had his pocketbook long ago."

All eyes were turned upon the unlucky bell boy who hung his head and
colored uncomfortably.

"So it was the boy who took the contents of the pocketbook!" was Mr.
Ackerman's comment.

"Speak up, boy," commanded the officer. "The gentleman is talking to
you." The lad looked up with a frightened start.

He might have been sixteen years of age but he did not look it for he
was pale and underfed; nor was there anything in his bearing to indicate
the poise and maturity of one who was master of the occasion. On the
contrary, he was simply a boy who was frankly distressed and frightened,
and as unfeignedly helpless in the present emergency as if he had been
six years old and been caught stealing jam from the pantry shelf. It did
not take more than a glance to convince the onlookers that he was no
hardened criminal. If he had done wrong it had been the result either of
impulse or mischief, and the dire result of his deed was a thing he had
been too unsophisticated to foresee. The plight in which he now found
himself plainly amazed and overwhelmed him and he looked pleadingly at
his captors.

"Well, my boy, what have you to say for yourself?" repeated Mr. Ackerman
more gently.

"Nothin'."

"Nothing?"

"No, sir."

"You did take the things out of the pocketbook then."

"Yes, sir."

"B