Going down the Canongate one day I was accosted by a little
treacherous rascal known as Dirty Dick. I suppose he had followed
me down the street for the purpose of so addressing me, but at
the moment I did not think much of the circumstance. Dick was not
particularly dirty in his appearance or person, so it is possible he
had got the name rather for some dirty trick or act of treachery. He
had the distinction of being heartily despised by every one who knew
him, myself included.
After a little preliminary patter, to throw me off my guard, Dick
said—
“Bob Brettle has finished his time and got back here.”
That, then, was Dick’s business with me. Had he quarrelled with the
convict and ticket-of-leave man he named? I knew perfectly well that
the reckless Bob Brettle had returned, for he had duly reported
himself to us, as bound by his ticket-of-leave, but I thought proper
to say innocently in reply—
“Has he, really?”
“Yes,” continued Dick, with animation; “I’ve seen him often, and know
where he hangs out—Brierly’s, in the Grassmarket. Is a straight tip
of any use to you?”
I looked at the rascal, and if the imp had only had the sense of an
owl he would have seen how contemptuous was the glance. But it is
given to some natures to be perfectly unconscious of the loathing
they inspire, and Dick’s was one of these.
“I’ll tell you when I get it,” was my reply. I did not expect Dick
to give me any news or promp me to anything that was not likely to
benefit himself.
“Well, you’ll soon have Bob Brettle in your hands again,” said Dick,
button-holing me with an affectionate caress, which made my flesh
creep. “He’s planning something now. I don’t know what the job is,
but it’s something dashing and daring. If he was took at the same old
game, wouldn’t it be ten years this time?”
“What was his last term?” I asked, affecting ignorance.
“Seven.”
“Well, you don’t need to ask, knowing that,” I said, making Dick
uncomfortable with a steady stare.
“If you was to watch him well, and get me to help you, I believe
you’d be sure of nabbing him,” said the traitor temptingly.
“Oh, you’ve quarrelled with him, then?” I sharply returned.
“Not me!” he exclaimed with great fervour.