And as he began to turn ugly, and show fight, we just clapped the bracelets on him and brought him along, and there he is in the cells--and, of course, it's sobered him down, and he's demanding his rights to see a lawyer." "Who is he ?" asked Mr.Lindsey.
"A stranger to the town," replied Chisholm.

"And he'll neither give name nor address but to a lawyer, he declares.

But we know he was staying at one of the common lodging-houses--Watson's--three nights ago, and that the last two nights he wasn't in there at all." "Well--where's that purse ?" demanded Mr.Lindsey.

"Mr.Moneylaws here says he can identify it, if it's Crone's." Chisholm opened a drawer and took out what I at once knew to be Abel Crone's purse--which was in reality a sort of old pocket-book or wallet, of some sort of skin, with a good deal of the original hair left on it, and tied about with a bit of old bootlace.

There were both gold and silver in it--just as I had seen when Crone pulled it out to find me some change for a five-shilling piece I had given him--and more by token, there was the five-shilling piece itself! "That's Crone's purse!" I exclaimed.