“Trust you for that, Jamie,” said Benjie, in servile admiration, at the same time giving me a poke in the ribs for which I did not thank him. “And, mind, be awful suspicious of him if he tries to prove a _nalibi_, as they call it,” he added, with careful concern. “He’s an awful liar, and could get others to swear anything.” “Ah! he’s not alone in the world in that respect, Benjie,” I significantly rejoined, “and has no chance to be till the hangman gets you.” Benjie gracefully acknowledged the compliment, and, after some more advice and instruction, left me. I knew, from the moment that Bell Corkling was named, that I should have some trouble in getting evidence against them. They had no fixed abode, and generally lodged at a place where dozens besides themselves might as reasonably be suspected of the crime. This beggars’ howf was in the Grassmarket, and its occupants had such a reputation for stealing from one another that I scarcely expected Bell or Pauley to be so foolish as leave their plunder about that place. My opinion to this day is that Benjie _did not_ see the Indian trinket in Bell’s possession, but merely inferred their guilt from circumstances which I shall notice further on. Therefore the task which Benjie conferred on me was much more difficult than I imagined. I had Bell watched for a day by a smart little ragamuffin whom I engaged for the purpose, and then I broke in on them at what I thought was the most favourable moment—about ten o’clock at night. The “kitchen” was full, but Pauley and Bell were in more select and favoured society—the room of the lodging-house keeper, who was helping them to dispose of some bad whisky. Bell looked angry and excited when I appeared and my men closed the door; Pauley looked concerned, and hurriedly said something across the table to Bell in an undertone, when she made a swift motion as if to wipe her mouth with her hand. All that took place while the fat lodging-house keeper was rising, and, in tones of innocent wonder, asking what I sought at such a time. I had not an answer ready, for I was thinking of Bell’s peculiar action, and watching her closely the while; but at length I said pleasantly to Bell— “I want to know how old you are, Bell.” “Then I won’t tell you,” she fiercely answered. “I didn’t ask you. I mean to find out for myself. You’re such a horse of a woman—I want to see if I can tell by looking at your teeth. Come away, now, like a good soul, open your mouth.” Pauley turned pale, and Bell closed her lips more rigidly. “Sha’nt,” she defiantly answered, in a mumble through her teeth.