“If you was to watch him well, and get me to help you, I believe you’d be sure of nabbing him,” said the traitor temptingly.
“Oh, you’ve quarrelled with him, then?” I sharply returned.
“Not me!” he exclaimed with great fervour.
I set the answer down as a lie, but pursued—
“Well, you think to get money for the dirty work of betraying him?”
“Not a penny,” he vociferated, with a tremendous oath, “and there’ll be no betraying about it. Only I thought you’d be always glad to hear the news or get a tip. You helped me so much in that last fix that I haven’t forgot it;” and the villain tried to put on a sentimental and grateful look by way of drawing a red herring across my path.
I was not deceived, but Dick’s next words were lost to me. I was thinking hard, and trying to account for Dick’s sudden zeal in the cause of law and order. He did not want money—I was bound to believe that at least;—could he have an old grudge at Brettle, or was this freak of treachery only the result of a quarrel?
I could not see how it could be either, for Brettle was not the man to associate much with a cur like Dick, but I resolved to make some inquiries with a view to laying bare the informer’s motive.
Brettle was a man who, in spite of the fact that we were professionally enemies, called out from within me a deal of admiration and sympathy. He was a powerfully-built fellow, still under thirty, and had once been handsome. He had not been born into a life of crime, but had been a hard-working silversmith, led off his feet and ruined by a pretty woman. The woman was really a beauty, but with the figure and face of an angel she had the heart of a devil.
She was known as Pretty Polly, and Brettle conceived such a passion for her that he actually married her. Brettle’s dash and daring carried him on for a long time unscathed, but at length he was caught and had a smart sentence. Pretty Polly supported herself as a barmaid during the interval, but being detected in helping herself from the till, she went into prison just as Bob came out. When her three months were finished they got together again. Brettle had another spell of good luck, till in a moment altogether unexpected by him he was neatly trapped, and laid past for seven years. I had the taking of him, but I was quite ignorant of the source of the information upon which I had acted. There had been a traitor, but I did not trouble to seek out the person, when the act brought grist to my mill.