“But there was some Indian ornaments took, wasn’t there?” Benjie added, suddenly coming to the point, and looking innocently anxious for enlightenment.
“Yes.”
“Well, I saw Bell Corkling with one of them—at least I think it would be one of them—a silver thing, made like a butterfly—and I heerd that others saw her with more, which she had put away in a safe place. O Jamie! ye had Pauley up on suspicion—why didn’t you keep him while you had him?”
“That’s a mistake which may be easily rectified, if we can find any of the things in their possession.”
“Trust you for that, Jamie,” said Benjie, in servile admiration, at the same time giving me a poke in the ribs for which I did not thank him. “And, mind, be awful suspicious of him if he tries to prove a nalibi, as they call it,” he added, with careful concern. “He’s an awful liar, and could get others to swear anything.”
“Ah! he’s not alone in the world in that respect, Benjie,” I significantly rejoined, “and has no chance to be till the hangman gets you.”
Benjie gracefully acknowledged the compliment, and, after some more advice and instruction, left me.
I knew, from the moment that Bell Corkling was named, that I should have some trouble in getting evidence against them. They had no fixed abode, and generally lodged at a place where dozens besides themselves might as reasonably be suspected of the crime. This beggars’ howf was in the Grassmarket, and its occupants had such a reputation for stealing from one another that I scarcely expected Bell or Pauley to be so foolish as leave their plunder about that place. My opinion to this day is that Benjie did not see the Indian trinket in Bell’s possession, but merely inferred their guilt from circumstances which I shall notice further on. Therefore the task which Benjie conferred on me was much more difficult than I imagined. I had Bell watched for a day by a smart little ragamuffin whom I engaged for the purpose, and then I broke in on them at what I thought was the most favourable moment—about ten o’clock at night. The “kitchen” was full, but Pauley and Bell were in more select and favoured society—the room of the lodging-house keeper, who was helping them to dispose of some bad whisky. Bell looked angry and excited when I appeared and my men closed the door; Pauley looked concerned, and hurriedly said something across the table to Bell in an undertone, when she made a swift motion as if to wipe her mouth with her hand. All that took place while the fat lodging-house keeper was rising, and, in tones of innocent wonder, asking what I sought at such a time.
I had not an answer ready, for I was thinking of Bell’s peculiar action, and watching her closely the while; but at length I said pleasantly to Bell—
“I want to know how old you are, Bell.”