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sum of fifty pounds in gold, for the purpose
of defraying certain household expenses. The
bankeralthough it was during panic-time
delivered it to me without a murmur. I
kept my hand over the pocket in which it
lay, as a bird forsakes not her nest when it
has eggs within it, from the very door to that
of my own, on Ludgate Hill ; yet when I got
home it was gone. The loss itself did not
affect me nearly so much as the method of
the losing. I knew where another fifty
pounds was to be got without much
inconvenience, but whither that fifty pounds was
gone, and by what miraculous means, was
indeed a question. The pocket which my
hand had covered was inviolate and without
a hole in it. It could scarcely have happened
that any thief, having ripped it open, would
have the courtesy, as well as the skill, to sew
it up again as I came along.

The problem so worried me; took so
strong a hold upon my mind, that I sent for
Inspector Ferret, of the detective police.

"Ferret," I said, after I had put him in
possession of the circumstances, "now, who
can have got this money?"

"Tom Daddles, or else the Spider, sir," he
replied coolly, and without the least
hesitation; "one of those twocertain; which
of them, depends upon whether you lost the
money east or west of the Bar. Tom takes
all the Strand, and the Spider has Fleet
Street and the Hill, here."

"Well, now," I said, "let me have a
personal interview, Mr. Inspector, if you please,
with the gentleman who has transferred this
property of mine to his account. Of course,
I will pass my word not to employ the arm
of the law against him. But I very much
want to know how the transfer was effected."

On the same afternoon the Inspector
informed me, that Mr. Daddles was the new
proprietor of the sum in question, and that
he would pay me a visit on the following
morning, early, with explanations.

Accordingly, while I was at breakfast, Mr.
Daddles called. He was a thin, not ungentlemanly
looking young man, soberly dressed,
and having a rather conspicuous air of
modesty and diffidence.

"With regard to the money, Mr. Brown,"
he said, "I saw you going westward along
the Strand, with the intention of procuring

"How did you know that?" interrupted I.

"You bought, sir, at a shop close to
Somerset House, a saffron-coloured linen bag,
such as is used for carrying money, and you
dangled it in your hand when you came out."

"Ass that I was!" I cried.

Mr. Daddles smiled forgivingly: "I never
left you," he continued, "from that moment
until you reached Saint James's Street.
When I saw you go into the banking-house,
I backed myself at two to one that I should
relieve you of your money. When I saw you
come out with the money in your left coat
tail, instead of buttoned up in a breast-
pocket, the odds rose to five to one. I knew
it was in your left coat-tail, because you kept
your hand there."

"And," I said, impatiently, "I never took
it out again; that I can swear to."

"You did not take it out for a long time,
sir," replied Mr. Daddles, applauding
moderately; "you gave me a great deal of anxiety,
I must confess. But you did take it out at last."

"Where?" cried I, "where? If I did
before I got home, I'll be hanged."

"Don't say that, sir," replied my new
acquaintance, rather severely, "don't use an
expression of that kind, whatever you do.
You stopped at a print shop on the west side
of Temple Bar, and then my last hope began
to expire; for, a few steps more would have
taken you into the Spider's territory, and
my chance would have vanished."

"Why did you not cut the bottom of my
pocket?" I asked, intensely interested.

"Because you would have missed the
weight of the coin," explained Mr. Daddles.
"Nothing remained for me, but to try the

"A fly, Mr. Daddles, explain yourself; I
saw no fly."

"You felt it though, Mr. Brown, if you
remember, upon the left cheek, and you took
your hand out of your pocket to remove it."

"I see it all now."

"That was it," assented Mr. Thomas
Daddles, in conclusion, "and a very neat
thing it was, too, though I say it."

Honour prevented me from giving Mr.
Daddles into custody: but I feel bound to
warn all pedestrians against any attempt at
fly-catching when a quiet, thin, too observant
pickpocket is by.



D. CAILLETTE! by those lowered eyes I often
You loved me.

C.                    Madame, where we dare not love
We may adore.

D.                   Speak plainly. Dost thou love me ?
Rise, simpleton! If thou dost love me, save
My father, whom a cruel doom awaits.
The king hath sworn it: and the king hath said
Truth, if it leaves the world, shall rest with kings.

C. Is this encouragement to plead for pardon.
Against his oath?

D.                      Argue not. Save my father.
He raised up thine, and gave the rank to thee,
Where none stands higher in favor.

C.                                            Ah! God knows,
God, who will pardon me, that, when the post
Of Fool was forced on me, I seiz'd my dirk
And would have stabbed myself: unfriendly hand
Seiz'd mine, and left me life, grief, shame, disgrace.

D. Thy noble form, thy nobler manners, give
The power of scorn to thee; grief we will share,
Disgrace we never will. The worst disgrace,
In all men's eyes is that which kings inflict:
Their frown the gravest shudder at; the block