“When I got out of quod and heerd of the thing—which had been done
when I was in—I had a idee that the peg was the man that did it, just
like the man, whoever he was, that wrote to you,” demurely observed
Benjie. “Pegs is an awful bad lot—except you, of course—oh, honour
bright, except you,” he added, catching himself up barely in time.
“But then I found out that Pauley had been flush of money for near a
week, and I took to watching him. I didn’t get much out of him, for
he’s fly, I tell you.”
“That’s a great compliment from you, Benjie—what a pity he can’t hear
it,” I remarked.
“But there was some Indian ornaments took, wasn’t there?” Benjie
added, suddenly coming to the point, and looking innocently anxious
for enlightenment.
“Yes.”
“Well, I saw Bell Corkling with one of them—at least I think it would
be one of them—a silver thing, made like a butterfly—and I heerd that
others saw her with more, which she had put away in a safe place. O
Jamie! ye had Pauley up on suspicion—why didn’t you keep him while
you had him?”
“That’s a mistake which may be easily rectified, if we can find any
of the things in their possession.”
“Trust you for that, Jamie,” said Benjie, in servile admiration, at
the same time giving me a poke in the ribs for which I did not thank
him. “And, mind, be awful suspicious of him if he tries to prove a
_nalibi_, as they call it,” he added, with careful concern. “He’s an
awful liar, and could get others to swear anything.”
“Ah! he’s not alone in the world in that respect, Benjie,” I
significantly rejoined, “and has no chance to be till the hangman
gets you.”
Benjie gracefully acknowledged the compliment, and, after some more
advice and instruction, left me.
I knew, from the moment that Bell Corkling was named, that I should
have some trouble in getting evidence against them. They had no
fixed abode, and generally lodged at a place where dozens besides
themselves might as reasonably be suspected of the crime. This
beggars’ howf was in the Grassmarket, and its occupants had such a
reputation for stealing from one another that I scarcely expected
Bell or Pauley to be so foolish as leave their plunder about that
place. My opinion to this day is that Benjie _did not_ see the Indian
trinket in Bell’s possession, but merely inferred their guilt
from circumstances which I shall notice further on. Therefore the
task which Benjie conferred on me was much more difficult than I
imagined. I had Bell watched for a day by a smart little ragamuffin
whom I engaged for the purpose, and then I broke in on them at what
I thought was the most favourable moment—about ten o’clock at night.
The “kitchen” was full, but Pauley and Bell were in more select
and favoured society—the room of the lodging-house keeper, who was
helping them to dispose of some bad whisky. Bell looked angry and
excited when I appeared and my men closed the door; Pauley looked
concerned, and hurriedly said something across the table to Bell in
an undertone, when she made a swift motion as if to wipe her mouth
with her hand. All that took place while the fat lodging-house keeper
was rising, and, in tones of innocent wonder, asking what I sought at
such a time.
I had not an answer ready, for I was thinking of Bell’s peculiar
action, and watching her closely the while; but at length I said
pleasantly to Bell—
“I want to know how old you are, Bell.”
“Then I won’t tell you,” she fiercely answered.
“I didn’t ask you. I mean to find out for myself. You’re such a horse
of a woman—I want to see if I can tell by looking at your teeth. Come
away, now, like a good soul, open your mouth.”
Pauley turned pale, and Bell closed her lips more rigidly.
“Sha’nt,” she defiantly answered, in a mumble through her teeth.
“Ah, ladies are always shy on that point; I must take you to the
Office, and get a crowbar to prize open your jaws,” and I got out my
handcuffs to fit one on her, when she suddenly made a desperate gulp,
and then turned crimson in the face, and began to wave her arms and
kick her legs at a fine rate, gasping, and choking, and sputtering,
but failing to get the impediment either up or down her capacious
throat. She opened her mouth now without being asked, and the chasm
thus displayed was enough to frighten the bravest, but she was so
evidently in pain, and urgent in her motions, that I made an attempt
to relieve her.
Others tried in turn, but at length we had to send for a doctor, who,
with a peculiar instrument—like a long bent pair of forceps—managed
to bring out of her throat an Indian gold coin. As soon as I had
examined the coin, and made some pleasant remarks thereon, which
were very badly received by Bell, I asked for the remainder of the
plunder, and not getting it, searched the place thoroughly, when I
at last found a small paper parcel tied with a piece of twine, and
fastened up inside the chimney with a table fork. In this parcel
was most of the plunder, including the old-fashioned watch, which
seemed not a bit the worse of its smoking. The landlady was loud
in her denunciations of my prisoners, and they were good enough to
confirm her protests, by declaring that she knew nothing of the hide.
Still all three had to trudge, though the landlady afterwards got
off with an admonition. It was the table fork which saved her, for
it was proved that she had missed the fork days before, and kicked
up a terrible row, accusing one of the lodgers of having stolen that
useful article.
The arrest, and the manner in which it had been accomplished, seemed
to impress Pauley with a more exalted opinion of my powers. He did
not know that it was by a mere chance that I entered at the moment
when Bell had the Indian coin in her possession, and seemed to think
there was something uncanny about me. That was his first impression.
A day or two’s reflection made him veer a little. He had never told
the particulars of the robbery to a living being—even Bell had not
been so trusted. How then could I have known that he must be the
man? That was Pauley’s puzzle, and it led his thoughts insensibly in
the direction of Benjie Blunt. He sent for me at last, and asked me
point blank if he had been informed on by that worthy. I was a little
staggered by the question, and Pauley took me up at once.
“I see it was him that set you on to me and Bell—and there’s nobody
else could,” he bitterly continued. “Well, I can be even with him,
for I’m not the real man after all. If you’ll undertake to get me
off, I’ll put you up to the whole plant.”
I could make no such pledge, but Pauley’s anger was roused, and he
had resolved that Benjie should suffer, so he made unconditionally
the following statement:—
“That night when the robbery was done I met Benjie in a public-house
in the Pleasance. He pretended to be very drunk, but he wasn’t, and
I knew it, and wondered what he was after, as I smelt chloroform,
and knew he was the only one who could have it about him. He got
quarrelsome and broke a glass, and was put out of the place. I didn’t
stay long after, as I was curious about him. He went along a street
or two pretty drunk like, and then got as sober as a judge, and went
out very smart to the cottage at the Meadows. The whole job didn’t
last five minutes, and I watched it all a bit off. When he came
out again he had a narrow box in his hands, and he went to the dog
kennel and pushed the box in below it, and then bolted. I went for
the box, and got it, and bolted too, for I was frightened, seeing the
servant’s foot in the lobby, and thinking maybe he had given her too
strong a dose. I burned the box whenever I got under cover, and hid
everything but the money. I heard that Benjie was locked up for being
drunk and abusive the same night. He was no more drunk than I am now,
but I s’pose he thought he’d be safer in there than out.”
This story was too wonderful for me to credit at a moment’s notice,
but I thought there could be no harm in getting hold of Benjie. I had
pledged my word to him that he was not to appear in the case as a
witness; his appearing as a prisoner was quite outside of the bond.
I went to look for Benjie soon after my interview with Pauley, and
chanced to meet him coming up a close in the High Street, when he
graciously smiled out, and seized hold of my hand to shake it warmly,
while he thanked me most heartily for so neatly securing Pauley and
Bell. He seemed to look upon the capture as a personal favour done to
himself. He was shortly to change his opinion.
“I’ll go up the close with you,” I quietly remarked, turning and
accompanying him as far as the High Street. “There are some points in
that affair I’m not quite sure of, and I want you to go with me as
far as the Office.”
“All right, but I am not to appear as a witness,” he warningly
observed.
“No, no, not as a witness,” I assuringly returned, “and, lest anyone
should suspect you of peaching, suppose I put one of these on you and
take you along on suspicion?”
He looked at me suspiciously, but recovered and grinned out as I
snapped the steel on his wrist—
“It’s a good joke,” he said delightedly.
“I don’t mean it for a joke at all,” I said, becoming serious.
“Really and truly I am arresting you on suspicion.”
His whole countenance changed, his jaw fell, and for a moment he
stopped walking, and looked as wicked as any human being could look.
“You can’t prove anything against me,” he at length answered, moving
along with me in apparent confidence. “I can prove a _nalibi_, as
it’s called. I was in Fernie’s public-house in the Pleasance all the
afternoon, and was put out there drunk, and lugged into the Office
long before the robbery came off. I was drunk, but I knew what I was
about, and I know I was never near the Meadows.”
“Done!” I cried. “Oh, you fool! Why did you say so much? You’ve
convicted yourself by speaking of an _alibi_. It was the only link
awanting in the chain of evidence, for I could not conceive why you
should pretend to be drunk and then get back to the High Street and
have yourself locked up as drunk and incapable. Thank you, Benjie,
for your help in this matter. It was all a clever _alibi_ you were
arranging?”
Benjie emitted one oath, and then became silent, conscious,
doubtless, of the soundness of my remarks. An hour or two after
he had been locked up, I had Peggy Reid brought to see him, when
she unhesitatingly identified him as the man who had held the
handkerchief to her mouth on the night of the robbery. This drove
the last prop out from under Benjie, and he plaintively asked if
Pauley was to be accepted as evidence. Being informed that that
was a likely contingency, he thereupon stated that he would prefer
to plead guilty, in order that Pauley might suffer along with him.
His benevolent intention was humoured, and the three went to the
Penitentiary together, Benjie getting the lion’s share in the number
of years.