II

On the Bench that morning Sir Jee shocked Mr Sherratt, the magistrates'

clerk, and he utterly disgusted Mr Bourne, superintendent of the

borough police. (I do not intend to name the name of the

borough--whether Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, or Turnhill. The

inhabitants of the Five Towns will know without being told; the rest of

the world has no right to know.) There had recently occurred a somewhat

thrilling series of burglaries in the district, and the burglars (a

gang of them was presumed) had escaped the solicitous attentions of the

police. But on the previous afternoon an underling of Mr Bourne's had

caught a man who was generally believed to be wholly or partly

responsible for the burglaries. The Five Towns breathed with relief and

congratulated Mr Bourne; and Mr Bourne was well pleased with himself.

The Staffordshire Signal headed the item of news, 'Smart Capture of a

Supposed Burglar'. The supposed burglar gave his name as William Smith,

and otherwise behaved in an extremely suspicious manner.

Now, Sir Jee, sitting as chief magistrate in the police-court, actually

dismissed the charge against the man! Overruling his sole colleague on

the Bench that morning, Alderman Easton, he dismissed the charge

against William Smith, holding that the evidence for the prosecution

was insufficient to justify even a remand. No wonder that Mr Bourne was

discouraged, not to say angry. No wonder that that pillar of the law,

Mr Sherratt, was pained and shocked. At the conclusion of the case Sir

Jehoshaphat said that he would be glad to speak with William Smith

afterwards in the magistrates' room, indicating that he sympathized

with William Smith, and wished to exercise upon William Smith his

renowned philanthropy.

And so, at about noon, when the Court majestically rose, Sir Jee

retired to the magistrates' room, where the humble Alderman Easton was

discreet enough not to follow him, and awaited William Smith. And

William Smith came, guided thither by a policeman, to whom, in parting

from him, he made a rude, surreptitious gesture.

Sir Jee, seated in the arm-chair which dominates the other chairs round

the elm table in the magistrates' room, emitted a preliminary cough.

'Smith,' he said sternly, leaning his elbows on the table, 'you were

very fortunate this morning, you know.'

And he gazed at Smith.

Smith stood near the door, cap in hand. He did not resemble a burglar,

who surely ought to be big, muscular, and masterful. He resembled an

undersized clerk who has been out of work for a long time, but who has

nevertheless found the means to eat and drink rather plenteously. He

was clothed in a very shabby navy-blue suit, frayed at the wrists and

ankles, and greasy in front. His linen collar was brown with dirt, his

fingers were dirty, his hair was unkempt and long, and a young and

lusty black beard was sprouting on his chin. His boots were not at all

pleasant.

'Yes, governor,' Smith replied, lightly, with a Manchester accent. 'And

what's YOUR game?'

Sir Jee was taken aback. He, the chairman of the borough Bench, and the

leading philanthropist in the country, to be so spoken to! But what

could he do? He himself had legally established Smith's innocence.

Smith was as free as air, and had a perfect right to adopt any tone he

chose to any man he chose. And Sir Jee desired a service from William

Smith.

'I was hoping I might be of use to you,' said Sir Jehoshaphat

diplomatically.

'Well,' said Smith, 'that's all right, that is. But none of your

philanthropic dodges, you know. I don't want to lead a new life, and I

don't want to turn over a new leaf, and I don't want a helpin' hand,

nor none o' those things. And, what's more, I don't want a situation.

I've got all the situation as I need. But I never refuse money, nor

beer neither. Never did, and I'm forty years old next month.'

'I suppose burgling doesn't pay very well, does it?' Sir Jee boldly

ventured.

William Smith laughed coarsely.

'It pays right enough,' said he. 'But I don't put my money on my back,

governor, I put it into a bit of public-house property when I get the

chance.'

'It may pay,' said Sir Jee. 'But it is wrong. It is very anti-social.'

'Is it, indeed?' Smith returned dryly. 'Anti-social, is it? Well, I've

heard it called plenty o' things in my time, but never that. Now, I

should have called it quite sociablelike, sort of making free with

strangers, and so on. However,' he added, 'I come across a cove once as

told me crime was nothing but a disease and ought to be treated as

such. I asked him for a dozen o' port, but he never sent it.'

'Ever been caught before?' Sir Jee inquired.

'Not much!' Smith exclaimed. 'And this'll be a lesson to me, I can tell

you. Now, what are you getting at, governor? Because my time's money,

my time is.'

Sir Jee coughed once more.

'Sit down,' said Sir Jee.

And William Smith sat down opposite to him at the table, and put his

shiny elbows on the table precisely in the manner of Sir Jee's elbows.

'Well?' he cheerfully encouraged Sir Jee.

'How would you like to commit a burglary that was not a crime?' said

Sir Jee, his shifty eyes wandering around the room. 'A perfectly lawful

burglary?'

'What ARE you getting at?' William Smith was genuinely astonished.

'At my residence, Sneyd Castle,' Sir Jee proceeded, 'there's a large

portrait of myself in the dining-room that I want to have stolen. You

understand?'

'Stolen?'

'Yes. I want to get rid of it. And I want--er--people to think that it

has been stolen.'

'Well, why don't you stop up one night and steal it yourself, and then

burn it?' William Smith suggested.

'That would be deceitful,' said Sir Jee, gravely. 'I could not tell my

friends that the portrait had been stolen if it had not been stolen.

The burglary must be entirely genuine.'

'What's the figure?' said Smith curtly.

'Figure?'

'What are you going to give me for the job?'

'GIVE you for doing the job?' Sir Jee repeated, his secret and

ineradicable meanness aroused. 'GIVE you? Why, I'm giving you the

opportunity to honestly steal a picture that's worth over a thousand

pounds--I dare say it would be worth two thousand pounds in

America--and you want to be paid into the bargain! Do you know, my man,

that people come all the way from Manchester, and even London, to see

that portrait?' He told Smith about the painting.

'Then why are you in such a stew to be rid of it?' queried the burglar.

'That's my affair,' said Sir Jee. 'I don't like it. Lady Dain doesn't

like it. But it's a presentation portrait, and so I can't--you see, Mr

Smith?'

'And how am I going to dispose of it when I've got it?' Smith demanded.

'You can't melt a portrait down as if it was silver. By what you say,

governor, it's known all over the blessed world. Seems to me I might

just as well try to sell the Nelson Column.'

'Oh, nonsense!' said Sir Jee. 'Nonsense. You'll sell it in America

quite easily. It'll be a fortune to you. Keep it for a year first, and

then send it to New York.'

William Smith shook his head and drummed his fingers on the table; and

then quite suddenly he brightened and said--

'All right, governor. I'll take it on, just to oblige you.'

'When can you do it?' asked Sir Jee, hardly concealing his joy.

'Tonight?'

'No,' said Smith, mysteriously. 'I'm engaged tonight.'

'Well, tomorrow night?'

'Nor tomorrow. I'm engaged tomorrow too.'

'You seem to be very much engaged, my man,' Sir Jee observed.

'What do you expect?' Smith retorted. 'Business is business. I could do

it the night after tomorrow.'

'But that's Christmas Eve,' Sir Jee protested.

'What if it is Christmas Eve?' said Smith coldly. 'Would you prefer

Christmas Day? I'm engaged on Boxing Day AND the day after.'

'Not in the Five Towns, I trust?' Sir Jee remarked.

'No,' said Smith shortly. 'The Five Towns is about sucked dry.'

The affair was arranged for Christmas Eve.

'Now,' Sir Jee suggested, 'shall I draw you a plan of the castle, so

that you can--'

William Smith's face expressed terrific scorn. 'Do you suppose,' he

said, 'as I haven't had plans o' your castle ever since it was built?

What do you take me for? I'm not a blooming excursionist, I'm not. I'm

a business man--that's what I am.'

Sir Jee was snubbed, and he agreed submissively to all William Smith's

arrangements for the innocent burglary. He perceived that in William

Smith he had stumbled on a professional of the highest class, and this

good fortune pleased him.

'There's only one thing that riles me,' said Smith, in parting, 'and

that is that you'll go and say that after you'd done everything you

could for me I went and burgled your castle. And you'll talk about the

ingratitude of the lower classes. I know you, governor!'