“You needn’t get mad about it.”

“I’ll do as I please.”

“No, you won’t,” he growled.  “If you don’t do as I want you to, I’ll have you arrested.”

This was strong language, and I hardly knew what to say in reply.  Not that I was frightened by his threat, but what made the man take such a strong personal interest in the matter?

As I have said, I was almost certain I had seen the fellow before, though where and when was more than I could determine.  Perhaps he was disguised.

“Perhaps you don’t think I know who you are,” I said quickly.

My words were a perfect shock to Mr. Allen Price.  In spite of his bronzed face he turned pale.

“You know who I am?  Why, I am as I tell you,—­ Allen Price,” he faltered.

“Really,” I replied, with assumed sarcasm.

“Yes, really.”

“I know better,” I returned boldly.

I was hardly prepared for what was to follow.  The man caught me by the arm.

“Then what you know shall cost you dear,” he cried.  “I’m not to be outwitted by a country boy.  Help!  Police!  Police!”

As he uttered his call for assistance he let drop his handbag and drew his purse from his pocket.

“I’ve got you, you young thief!” he cried, letting the purse fall to the sidewalk.  “You didn’t think to be caught as easily, did you?  Help!  Po—­ Oh, officer, I’m glad you’ve come!” the last to a policeman who had just hurried to the scene.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded the minion of the law.

“I just caught this young fellow picking my pocket,” exclaimed Mr. Allen.  “Where’s my pocketbook?”

“There’s a pocketbook on the sidewalk,” put in a man in the crowd that had quickly gathered.

“So it is.”  He picked it up.  “You rascal!  You thought to get away in fine style, didn’t you?” he continued to me.

For a moment I was too stunned to speak.  The un-looked-for turn of affairs took away my breath.

“I didn’t pick his pocket,” I burst out.

“Yes, you did.”

“It isn’t so.  He’s a swindler and is trying to get me into trouble.”

“Here! here! none of that!” broke in the officer.  “Tell me your story,” he said to Mr. Allen Price.

“I was coming along looking in the shop windows,” began my accuser, “when I felt a hand in my pocket.  I turned quickly and just in time to catch this fellow trying to make off with my pocketbook.”

“It is a falsehood, every word of it,” I declared.

“Shut up!” said the officer, sternly.  “Please go on.”

“He is evidently a smart thief,” continued Mr. Allen Price.  “I must see if I have lost anything else.”

He began a pretended examination of his clothes.  In the meantime the crowd began to grow larger and larger.

“We can’t stay here all day,” said the policeman, roughly.  “What have you got to say to the charge?”