‘I know nothing about it; I will take it directly to the man who gave it me.’
But on going into the street, nothing was seen of Joe. We went to the lodgings, but no Joe was there. He must have seen the officer taken to the shop, and then thought it best to run away.
‘Well, young man, you must come with me to the station. The watch is stolen, and has been found upon you;’ so said the officer, as he laid hold of my arm to take me to the lock-up.
In due time I was brought before the magistrates, charged with having stolen a watch. I told my story, which, from the smiles on the faces in court, seemed to be a very stale one.
‘Is anything known of this man?’ sharply asked one of the magistrates.
‘Yes, your worship,’ answered an official, as he read from a large book. ‘Convicted for stealing a pier-glass, April 19, 1867, and sentenced to three months’ hard labour.’
It was now October 1868, only about eighteen months after my first appearance in the same dock. I saw that this fact told against my tale.
‘You stand committed to the sessions,’ was the reply of the Bench; and I went down below, lamenting my hard luck.
A day or two after my committal to the borough prison, the chief superintendent visited my cell, note-book in hand. ‘You have been previously convicted,’ he said. ‘Once in this prison last year. Haven’t you been in Winchester jail since?’
I saw it was useless to deny it; and now I began to realise the seriousness of my position. The superintendent was getting up my criminal history for the recorder, and two convictions in so short a time would certainly insure for me a long sentence. The knowledge of my innocence in the present case made my position all the more grievous.