“If you wish to hear it, I can’t do better than give it in his own words, for he was a far better hand at telling a story or narrative than I am myself,” said Hilton.
“On the 4th of January, 1852,” says M‘Levy, “as a man whose name has by some mischance been omitted from my book, was going along the head of the Cowgate, he was instantaneously set upon by three young men, thrown down, and robbed of his watch. A man of the name of W. Duncan, who came up at the moment to lift up the stunned victim, met the robbers as they made off. It was dark, and he had a difficulty in catching marks, so as to be able to identify them. All that he could say when he came to the office was only general, so that it would have been impossible to proceed with any certainty on his description. In addition to this disadvantage, it happened that any information that I could get from him was got at the door of the office, where I met him as he hurried in. I was just on the eve of setting out on a hunting expedition, accompanied by my assistant, Reilly, with a draper, who had got taken from his shop a quantity of goods, and whose case was urgent. How can I get so much from Duncan—enough to point my mind towards three young men—David Dunnett, Robert Brodie, and Archibald Miller—the last of whom I knew to be a returned convict.”
“Ah, you knew the gentlemen, eh?” cried one of listeners.
“Not me” said Hilton. “I am giving you the narrative as M‘Levy tells it in his work.”
“M‘Levy!—what a rum name!” observed the publican. “A Scotch Jew, I suppose?”
“Nothing of the kind. M‘Levy was an Irishman by birth, though he followed the avocation of a detective, like myself, in the city of Edinburgh. Of course it was impossible,” says M‘Levy, “that the man could give me a description of all three, but he said sufficient for me to draw my own conclusions, for when once a gang is formed, they generally act in concert, so that if you get a clue to one, the other birds are easily trapped. The particular line of the suspected persons, I knew perfectly well, was robbing from the person, and knowing this, I was more easily led to the conclusion that they were the guilty parties—at least such was my impression. It was only that, not a positive or absolute conviction; and, indeed, so much was I taken up with the draper’s business, that I sent Duncan to report regularly.”
“Duncan?”
“Yes, Duncan is in his grave now, and nothing can touch him further,” remarked Mr. Hilton, sententious.”
In the circumstances (continues M‘Levy narrative), the affair was soon out of my mind, occupied as I was with the poor draper, who sighed for his goods, and no doubt thought that I was the man to repair his loss.
A reputation thus gets a man into toils, but I hope I never regretted this consequence, so long as I could give my poor services to anxious, and often miserable victims.