On the following morning a workman was sent by Mr. Wrench, who removed the shelves and made all the other necessary preparations.
In the evening, the detective crept into the press, and found it sufficiently commodious for his accommodation. He was a little cramped, it is true, or would be so, after a sojourn therein of some hours’ duration; but this inconvenience he felt bound to submit to in the exercise of his vocation.
A small stool was placed inside the cabinet, the doors of which were then closed and locked by Wrench.
So far matters were satisfactorily arranged.
The reader should be apprised that what we are about to describe is a narrative of an actual occurrence, which is, in every way, true, even to the minutest detail.
On the succeeding night the thief-catcher was prepared to take up his station in his narrow prison-house. He remained conversing with the landlady in her little bar parlour till all the household had retired to bed.
As a natural consequence the impression now became pretty general that he was an accepted suitor of the widow, and neither he nor the lady took the trouble to contradict it.
When the house was quiet, and no one any longer visible, Mr. Wrench unlocked the folding doors, and, like the Davenport brothers, entered his cabinet, taking care at the same time to lock himself therein.
The gas was turned off, and Mrs. Sanderson retired to bed.
Mr. Wrench kept watch and ward.