u are screened by the blind. Look, I say, where he sits."

She pointed to a room on the ground-floor in the opposite house, where
might be dimly seen a dull red fire in a sordid grate, and a man's form,
the head pillowed upon arms that rested on a small table. On the table a
glass, a bottle.

"It is thus that his mornings pass," said Arabella Crane, with a wild
bitter pity in the tone of her voice. "Look, I say, is he formidable
now? can you fear him?"

"Very much indeed," muttered Cutts. "He is only stupefied, and he can
shake off a doze as quickly as a bulldog does when a rat is let into his
kennel."

"Mr. Cutts, you tell me that he constantly carries about him the same
old pocket-book which he says contains his fortune; in other words, the
papers that frighten his victim into giving him the money which is now
the cause of his danger. There is surely no pocket you cannot pick or
get picked, Mr. Cutts? Fifty pounds for that book in three hours."

"Fifty pounds are not enough; the man he sponges on would give more to
have those papers in his power."

"Possibly; but Losely has not been dolt enough to trust you sufficiently
to enable you to know how to commence negotiations. Even if the man's
name and address be amongst those papers, you could not make use of the
knowledge without bringing Jasper himself upon you; and even if Jasper
were out of the way, you would not have the same hold over his victim;
you know not the circumstances; you could make no story out of some
incoherent rambling letters; and the man, who, I can tell you, is by
nature a bully, and strong, compared with any other man but Jasper,
would seize you by the collar; and you would be lucky if you got out of
his house with no other loss than the letters, and no other gain but a
broken bone. Pooh! YOU know all that, or you would have stolen the book,
and made use of it before. Fifty pounds for that book in three hours;
and if Jasper Losely be safe and alive six months hence, fifty pounds
more, Mr. Cutts. See! he stirs not must be fast asleep. Now is the
moment."

"What, in his own room!" said Cutts with contempt. "Why, he would know
who did it; and where should I be to-morrow? No--in the streets; any one
has a right to pick a pocket in the Queen's highways. In three hours you
shall have the book."

CHAPTER VIII.

MERCURY IS THE PATRON DEITY OF MERCANTILE SPECULATORS, AS WELL AS OF
CRACK-BRAINED POETS; INDEED, HE IS MUCH MORE FAVOURABL