mstance of
the clandestine marriage which absolutely tends to divert suspicion from
Mr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack," or the runaway lady. "Audacious hussy" was the
term my fair friend used in speaking of her; but let that pass. It is
more to the purpose to record that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidence
in me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example, and do his
best to look hopefully for future results.

I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to await
advice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all the composure
of a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I traced the three
confederates from the church door to the railway terminus, I had two
motives for doing so. First, I followed them as a matter of official
business, believing them still to have been guilty of the robbery.
Secondly, I followed them as a matter of private speculation, with a
view of discovering the place of refuge to which the runaway couple
intended to retreat, and of making my information a marketable
commodity to offer to the young lady's family and friends. Thus,
whatever happens, I may congratulate myself beforehand on not having
wasted my time. If the office approves of my conduct, I have my plan
ready for further proceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take
myself off, with my marketable information, to the genteel villa
residence in the neighbourhood of the Regent's Park. Any way, the affair
puts money into my pocket, and does credit to my penetration as an
uncommonly sharp man.

I have only one word more to add, and it is this: If any individual
ventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates are innocent of all
share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in return, defy that
individual--though he may even be the Chief Inspector Theakstone
himself--to tell me who has committed the robbery at Rutherford Street,
Soho.

Strong in that conviction, I have the honour to be your very obedient
servant,

MATTHEW SHARPIN.

FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER.

Birmingham, July 9th.

SERGEANT BULMER,--That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin, has made
a mess of the case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I expected he
would. Business keeps me in this town, so I write to you to set the
matter straight. I inclose with this the pages of feeble
scribble-scrabble which the creature Sharpin calls a re