“It’s a fine day, sir,” he graciously began.
“It is—a very fine day,” I returned, with emphasis. “Do you remember that bit of ivory, Sandy, with the brass handle attached, which we found here?”
Sandy found his memory conveniently defective.
“I had quite forgot aboot it, sir,” he said awkwardly, when I had refreshed his powers a little.
“Well, I’ve discovered the gentleman who owns it, and strangely enough he declares that you were in his house sweeping some chimneys the day before it went amissing.”
Sandy’s sooty face was a curious study, but he wisely made no audible reply.
“Don’t say anything unless you like, but did you ever see this parcel before?” I gently pursued, as I brought out the parcel and showed him its contents. “Nothing to say?—very good. Just put on your coat and cap and we’ll go, then. I’m only sorry,” I added, as I put a handcuff on his wrist, and retained the other end in my hand, “that I haven’t a pair of these with a longer chain between the bracelets, for I never come close to you, Sandy, without sneezing for half a day after.”
Sandy grinned a feeble and ghastly assent, and then went with me without a word. We could easily have proved both robberies against him, but he decided to make the best of his position by pleading guilty, and so got off with three months imprisonment.
THE FAMILY BIBLE.
To men of business or wealth, accustomed to handle large sums of money, bank-notes for large sums—such as £50 or £100—suggest nothing but convenience of handling and counting. With those who never owned £50 in their lives it is very different. The sum represented seems fabulously great—a fortune in itself. And then the thing is so small—a little oblong square of paper—so compressible—so thin—that the second stage—that of temptation—easily follows. Fifty or a hundred pounds in gold would be a good weight to carry, and a sum difficult to conceal; but a slip of paper! how many cunning and impenetrable places of hiding could be devised in a few minutes for that?