Such was the case with Phil.

“I assure you,” he said earnestly, “that I did not steal this ring.”

“Where did you get it, then?” demanded the conductor roughly.

He was one of those men who, in any position, will make themselves disagreeable. Moreover, he was a man who always thought ill of others, when there was any chance of doing so. In fact, he preferred to credit his fellows with bad qualities rather than with good.

“It was handed me by a young man who just left the car,” said Phil.

“That's a likely story,” sneered¹ the conductor.

“Young men are not in the habit of giving valuable rings to strangers.”

“He did not give it to me, I advanced him five dollars on it.”

“What was the young man's name?” asked the conductor incredulously.

“There's his name and address,” answered Phil, drawing from his pocket the paper handed him by Mr. Lake.

“Lionel Lake, 237 Broadway,” repeated the conductor. “If there is any such person, which I very much doubt, you are probably a confederate of his.”

“You have no right to say this,” returned Phil indignantly.

“I haven't, haven't I?” snapped the conductor.

“Do you know what I am going to do with you?”

“If you wish me to return the ring to this young lady, I will do so, if she is positive it is hers.”

“Yes, you must do that, but it won't get you out of trouble. I shall hand you over to a policeman as soon as we reach New York.”

Phil was certainly dismayed, for he felt that it might be difficult for him to prove that he came honestly in possession of the ring.

“The fact is,” added the conductor, “your story is too thin.”

“Conductor,” said a new voice, “you are doing the boy an injustice².”

The speaker was an old man with gray hair, but of form still robust³, though he was at least sixty five. He sat in the seat just behind Phil.

“Thank you, sir,” said Phil gratefully.

“I understand my business,” said the conductor impertinently, “and don't need any instructions from you.”

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