an, after he had made a
note of my story. "What is it they 'ad of you, sir?"

"A shagreen leather pocket-book," said the man. "There it is."

"This one?" said the constable.

"Yes."

"Oh," said the constable, opening the clasps, so that he could examine
the writing on the leaves. "What's inside?"

"A lot of figures," said the man. "Sums. Problems in arithmetic."

"Right," said the constable, handing over the book.

"Here you are, sir. What name, sir?"

"Edward Jermyn."

"Edward German," the constable repeated.

"Where d' you live, sir?"

"At Mr. Scott's in Fish Lane."

"Right, sir," said the constable, writing down the address, "You must
appear tomorrow at ten before Mr. Garry, the magistrate. You, too, young
master, to give your evidence."

At this the boys burst out crying, begging us not to appear, using all
those deceptive arts which the London thieves practise from childhood.
I, who was new to the world's deceits, was touched to the marrow by
their seeming misery. The constable roughly silenced them. "I know you,"
he said. "I had my eye on you two ever since Christmas. Now you'll go
abroad to do a bit of honest work, instead of nickin' pockets. Stow your
blubbering now, or I'll give you Mogador Jack." He produced "Mogador
Jack," a supple shark's backbone, from behind the door. The tears
stopped on the instant.

After this, the bearded man showed me the way back to Fish Lane, where
Ephraim, who was at the door, looking out for me, gave me a shrewd
scolding, for venturing out without a guide.

Mr. Jermyn silenced him by giving him a shilling. The next day, Mr.
Jermyn took me to the magistrate's house, where the two thieves were
formally committed for trial. Mr. Jermyn told me that they would
probably be transported for seven years, on conviction at the
Assizes; but that, as they were young, the honest work abroad, in the
plantations, might be the saving of them. "So do not be so sad, Mr.
Martin," he said. "You do not know how good a thing you did when you
looked out of the window yesterday. Do you know, by the way, how much my
book is worth?"

"No, sir," I said.

"Well. It's worth more than the King's crown," he said.

"But I thought it was only sums, sir."

"Yes," he said, with a strange smile. "But some sums have to do with a
great deal of money. Now I want you to think tonight of something to the
value of twenty pounds or so. I want to give you something as a reward
for your smartness. Do