“What’s the matter with the timepiece, man?” said I, as I laid hold of him, and dragging him to the article, picked it up. “Isn’t it a good ’un that you threw it away?”
The fellow was sulky, and would not answer me; but a watch was so pleasant an object to me at that particular time that I overlooked the affront. Dragging him to the foot of the close, where his companion was in the custody of my assistant, we took our men to the Office, where I very soon discovered that the watch was one of Mr C——’s fifty. My anticipations, in which I had been so wise, were thus strangely enough reversed. In place of getting the men through the watch, I had got the watch through the men. And my next object was to improve upon the good fortune that had been so kind to me, in spite of my want of confidence in my benefactress. But here commenced a new difficulty. The men foolishly enough gave each the other’s name, Alexander Clark and James Mitchell—quite different from those they carried for the nonce; but as for aught else, they were what we call lockmouths. No skeleton-key would reach their works. I was thus driven aback, nor did I make much progress for some time, except in hearing that one Hart had got another of the watches from another man, who had got it from Mitchell. This I, of course, treasured up in the meantime; but I was so anxious to worm out of my men where they resided—the true clue to all other discoveries—that I postponed all other inquiries, and besides, from what I knew of Hart, a lockmouth too, I had no hopes of him. All my efforts with my men were, however, vain. They would admit nothing as to their place of putting up; sullen, if not enraged, at the trick practised on them in getting each to give the other’s real name. Why such men could have been so completely off their guard is not easy to be accounted for, except on the supposition that they were trying to fight shy of one another, or upon the principle I have often acted on, that even a cautious thief will sometimes allow the admission of a fact not directly implicating himself to be jerked out of him by a sudden question. After the men had been sent in custody to Dundee, I sought out Hart, and was just as unsuccessful with him. He would not admit to the watch, neither would he confess that he knew the residence of either the one or the other.
And here this strange case—destined to have so many crooks in its lot—took another turn, which, involving a little disregard of courtesy towards me, roused my independence to a rather grand vindication. The authorities in Dundee sent over an officer, who informed us that eighteen of the watches had been recovered there, and that they had ascertained, by the confession of Mitchell, that the thieves had been residing in Edinburgh, in a certain tavern kept by a Mrs Walker. Mr Moxey got the intelligence, and whether or not it was that he had been suddenly seized with the ambition of becoming a practical detective I cannot say; but true it is that, without any communication to me, he set out with the Dundee officer to find out Mrs Walker, and, no doubt, recover the remainder of the watches. Well, I allowed them full rope, and they wandered about for a whole day, without being able to find this same tavern. I knew very well what they were after, and could have led them to the house as direct as to the jail, but I abstained from all interference, where my services were, as I thought, superseded. Perhaps there was a little cunning—what could we do without it?—at the bottom of my very virtuous indignation.
At length, and when utterly exhausted, my superior called me in the evening.
“James,” said he, “I can make nothing of this inquiry; there is no Mrs Walker’s tavern in Edinburgh.”
“Why, sir, hadn’t you better continue the search all night?” said I; “you may get the house before the morning.”
He looked at me to see the state of my face, and smiled, for he was a very good-natured man.
“Do you mean what you recommend?” said he.
“To be sure I do,” said I. “It was no wish of mine that you should begin the search, but seeing you have begun it, and every moment is precious, I think you should end it before you sleep.”
“But I have ended it.”