“What was your object in telling me you were going on the square?” I
thought perhaps that he might want assistance.
“What was your object in speaking to me?” he roughly and snappishly
returned. “I had no object at all. I know that the more thieves there
are the better it is for you.”
“You’re mistaken there, Bob, and I’ll prove it some day,” I answered
pleasantly, and then I left him.
My curiosity was roused regarding Brettle, and I took the trouble to
have him watched, when I discovered that he really was trying to get
work, and even undertaking the meanest drudgery to earn a living.
Everything was against him, of course, and he went back steadily till
his clothes would scarcely allow him to appear on the street.
In making these investigations I was continually contrasting
Brettle’s condition and evident inclinations with Dirty Dick’s
prophecy, that I should soon have the ticket-of-leave man in my
hands again, and with no success so far as a solution is concerned.
The promised “tip” had never come, and even Dick was a mystery to
me. I was at a loss to know whence came the money which Dick spent
so freely upon himself. He did not work; he was too cowardly to
engage in any act of plundering likely to produce much gain; and
yet he had abundance, while Brettle was in great want. Dick had
the reputation of being able to arrange a robbery very nicely, but
would never risk his own liberty in the affair, however tempting the
gain; but even knowing that to be a source of income to him, I was
at a loss to account for his seeming wealth. Thus it chanced that my
attention came to be more earnestly fixed upon Dick than upon the
man he had promised to betray into my hands. When I saw Dick moving
in a stealthy and cat-like way before me, one day when I was passing
along Princes Street, and knew that he was quite unconscious of my
presence, I was quickly roused to an interest in his movements. I
had not watched him long, when I thought the solution of the whole
mystery was in my hands. It seemed to me that Dick’s new line was
pocket-picking, and that he was following a likely plant—an elderly
gentleman and a lady—with the intention of exercising his new art.
After a time it dawned upon me that Dick’s cowardice was against him.
Several chances occurred which he did not attempt to make use of.
At length the gentleman went into one of the shops alone, and then,
to my surprise, the lady, who had remained standing at the window,
turned slightly, noticed Dick standing near, moved a little closer
to him, and addressed some words to him in a hurried and constrained
manner, which Dick as swiftly answered. The lady then took out her
purse, and, placing a coin in his hand, turned once more to look in
at the window, while Dick passed on with the crowd as if nothing had
happened. Now, had Dick been the first to speak, and had the lady’s
manner been different, I should have considered it an ordinary case
of begging, and had no scruple in following and taking Dick. But
as it was I could only wonder what connection such a haughty and
evidently wealthy person could have with a miserable coward like
him. Instead of following Dick I followed the lady as soon as she had
been rejoined by the white-haired gentleman, whom I took to be her
husband. From the side glimpse which I had of her face she seemed to
be quite young and very good-looking, though there was a nameless
something in the expression of her face which told me that she had
not always been in such a position. In order to get a better look
at her, I got past the couple on the opposite side of the street,
crossed over while they stood inspecting a window, and then, as
soon as they moved, sauntered slowly forward and met them full in
the face. Purposely I got directly in front of the lady, in seeming
forgetfulness, and, as she stopped in haughty surprise, I had a good
look into her eyes. Then I started and looked again, upon which her
glance fell before mine as surely as those of one of “my bairns” ever
did. In a moment more she was past, and I was left wondering. I was
puzzled and bewildered. The face seemed strangely familiar to me; I
could have sworn that I had known the owner of it long before, and
yet I could not tell her name or recall a single circumstance in her
history. I stood there cudgelling my brains till I had almost lost
sight of the couple who had so interested me; then, unable to make
a better of it, I roused myself and followed them for a full hour,
till they entered one of the biggest hotels in the city and remained
there. A waiter running out a moment or two after, on being stopped
by me, said that the couple were “Mr and Mrs Harper, from Glasgow,”
and that he understood that the gentleman was very wealthy. They
were in Edinburgh on a pleasure trip, and, so far as he knew, had no
children.
That was all I could get from the waiter, but the news did not banish
that beautiful face—so full of sweetness and innocence, if a certain
flash could have been taken from her fine eyes. That flash was the
only thing to turn the scales, and it did that most effectually. It
gave just such an expression to the whole face as I could imagine
Lucrezia Borgia to have owned.
Later in the day, when thinking of Brettle and his affairs, by some
queer turn of memory I recalled the name of Pretty Polly, and then
her sweet-looking features rose before me as vividly as if I had seen
them only the day before. But that was not all; for lo! as I looked,
the fine features became somewhat stouter and coarser, and rapidly
changed into those of Mrs Harper, whom I had that day followed along
Princes Street.
“How like they are to each other!” was my mental exclamation. “It
must have been that resemblance which puzzled me. But could they be
the same person? Never! Brettle says Pretty Polly is dead.”
This reasoning did not convince me, for there still remained the
curious fact that the haughty Mrs Harper had allowed her glance to
fall before my own in that fashion so suggestive to me of “auld
acquaintance.” Could Pretty Polly have had a sister who resembled
her? I thought not; for had not Brettle himself said, “The like of
her doesn’t walk the earth?” Besides, if she had a sister, and she in
such a good position, I could scarcely believe that the lady would be
so heartless as to allow her brother-in-law to almost perish of want
while she revelled in luxury.
I was waited for by Dick at a street corner on the afternoon of the
following day. When I saw him I was a little pleased, as I thought it
possible that I might get out of him all I wanted in regard to the
strange woman. But as Dick was full to the eyes with his own affairs,
I let him chatter about them first.
“I can give you the straight tip about Brettle at last,” he eagerly
began.
“Do you expect me to pay you for it?” I quietly interposed.
“No, no, not a penny.”
“You work for nothing, then—for the mere love of the thing?” I said,
with a palpable sneer.
“Just that,” he said, swallowing the insult smilingly. “Brettle is to
break into a shop in Leith Street to-night—Calderston’s, No.—. The
place above enters from the Terrace, and the key of that is sent home
every night by a drunken porter. Brettle will treat him on the way,
get the key from him, and work inside all night. Perhaps he will stay
there over the Sunday. He is to work the job single-handed, and take
the plunder out by the Terrace stair in different lots.”
“And who arranged all this for him?” I asked, nailing Dick’s shifty
glance with a steady stare.
“Oh, I don’t know—himself, I suppose,” he confusedly answered.
That was enough for me. I saw that Dick had arranged it all as a nice
trap for Brettle. What could be his object?
“Dick,” I said suddenly, after noting down all he had revealed,
“have you any idea what has become of Brettle’s wife, Pretty Polly?”
The start the man gave! and his face! I never thought that there was
such a blush in him.
“Dead, I think,” he guiltily stammered, after a horrible pause.