unlooked-for
interruption. Micky Maguire was seized by the collar, and, turning
indignantly, found himself in the grip of a policeman.

"So you are fighting, are you, my fine fellow?" demanded the guardian of
the public peace.

"He insulted me," said Micky, doggedly, not attempting resistance, which
he knew would be ineffectual. "Didn't he, Jim?"

But Jim had already disappeared. He had a prejudice, easily accounted
for, against the metropolitan police, and had as little communication
with them as possible.

"I don't know anything about that," said the policeman. "All I know is
that you're wanted."

"Just for hittin' him? I didn't hurt him any."

"He didn't hurt me much," said Tom, generously, not desiring to see
Micky get into trouble on his account.

"He says I didn't hurt him," urged Micky. "Can't you let me go?"

"That isn't what I want you for," said the policeman.

Micky was astonished. The real cause of his arrest never once occurred
to him, and he could not understand why he was "wanted."

"What is it, then?" he asked in some surprise. "What 'ave I been doin'?"

"Perhaps you don't remember relieving an old gentleman of his
pocket-book yesterday in Chatham Street."

"'Twasn't me."

"Who was it then?"

"Ragged Dick,--the feller that was took at the time. I seed him pick the
man's pocket."

"It seems that you remember something about it."

"But it was Dick that did it. If he says I did it, he lies."

"I've nothing to do with that. You must tell your story to the judge."

"Has he let Dick go?"

"Yes."

Micky received this intelligence with dismay. Somehow it had got out
that he was the real thief, and he began to think that his chance of
getting off was small. Just then, while in custody of the policeman, he
saw advancing towards him the man who had inveigled him into the
plot,--Gilbert, the book-keeper. His anger against Gilbert overcame his
prudence, and he said, "Well, if I did take the pocket-book, I was paid
for doin' it, and that was the man that hired me."

With some surprise, the policeman listened to this story.

"If you don't believe me, just wait till I speak to him."

"Mr. Gilbert!" called Micky.

Gilbert, who had not till now noticed his confederate, looked up, and,
rapidly understanding what had happened, determined upon his course.

"Who speaks to me?" he said, quietly.

"You've got me into trouble, Mr. Gilbert," said Micky, "and I want you
to get me out of it."

"