was dying to talk to somebody about it.

"'He's all right to-day,' says I; 'but the police ain't the fools they're
reckoned. I've noticed they generally get there in the end.'

"'There's some very intelligent men among them,' says he: 'no question of
it. I shouldn't be surprised if they had a clue!'

"'No,' I says, 'no more should I; though no doubt he's telling himself
there never was such a clever thief.'

"'Well, we shall see,' says he.

"'That's about it,' says I.

"We talked a bit about old acquaintances and other things, and then,
having finished, he handed me a sovereign and rose to go.

"'Wait a minute,' I says, 'your bill comes to three-and-eight. Say
fourpence for the waiter; that leaves sixteen shillings change, which
I'll ask you to put in your pocket.'

"'As you will,' he says, laughing, though I could see he didn't like it.

"'And one other thing,' says I. 'We've been sort of pals, and it's not
my business to talk unless I'm spoken to. But I'm a married man,' I
says, 'and I don't consider you the sort worth getting into trouble for.
If I never see you, I know nothing about you. Understand?'

"He took my tip, and I didn't see him again at that restaurant. I kept
my eye on the paper, but the Westminster Bank thief was never discovered,
and success, no doubt, gave him confidence. Anyhow, I read of two or
three burglaries that winter which I unhesitatingly put down to Mr.
Joseph--I suppose there's style in housebreaking, as in other things--and
early the next spring an exciting bit of business occurred, which I knew
to be his work by the description of the man.

"He had broken into a big country house during the servants' supper-hour,
and had stuffed his pockets with jewels. One of the guests, a young
officer, coming upstairs, interrupted him just as he had finished. Joseph
threatened the man with his revolver; but this time it was not a nervous
young clerk he had to deal with. The man sprang at him, and a desperate
struggle followed, with the result that in the end the officer was left
with a bullet in his leg, while Joseph jumped clean through the window,
and fell thirty feet. Cut and bleeding, if not broken, he would never
have got away but that, fortunately for him, a tradesman's cart happened
to be standing at the servants' entrance. Joe was in it, and off like a
flash of greased lightning. How he managed to escape, with all the
country in an uproar, I can't tell you; but he did i