“It must have cost a good round sum?” said the friend, as he returned the chronometer, and it was carefully encased in the chamois leather cover and returned to the captain’s vest pocket. “Sixty pounds, at least,” returned the captain, proudly; “perhaps a good bit more. I know they wouldn’t give me a shabby present.” Sixty pounds! Tommy Tait’s mouth fairly watered as he prudently withdrew his head, and rubbed his hands in gloating anticipation. Such a prize had not come in his way for many a day. But would the captain be an easy victim to manipulate? There was the rub. Had Tommy Tait’s line been one of violence he would have had not the ghost of a chance against the captain, who was six feet two in his stockings, broad in proportion, and strong as a lion. But Tommy’s was the delicate art of the pick-pocket, and had the time been night instead of day, and the captain only sufficiently befogged with drink, Tommy would have felt as sure of his prey as if the chronometer already lay in his clutches. Everything was against him. The captain was drinking only lemonade, and had the look of an exceedingly wide-awake customer besides; the sun was shining brightly, and the streets, he knew, were crowded with passengers. Tommy uttered a few strong imprecations under his breath, coupled with a wish that all temperance captains might come to a bad end for creating extra risks and dangers to hard-working fellows like himself. Still the chance was there and must not be missed; and what was a thief worth if his genius could not rise to an occasion like that? The captain was going towards Edinburgh, as Tommy learned from the conversation, while the friend was going to Leith. So much the better. Tommy would have one pair of eyes less to trouble him. He waited patiently till they had talked their fill, and then followed them out of the shop. They stood for five minutes at the door; but that interval Tommy filled up ingeniously by lighting his pipe at the bar. When the friends fairly parted, Tommy lost all interest in the barman and his dogs, and abruptly closed the conversation and left. As the captain moved on before him with firm and giant-like strides Tommy’s heart sank within him. He was a bit of a coward, and he felt certain that if he bungled, and got into the clutches of that powerful man, he would not have to wait long for a sore punishment. Sea captains are accustomed to administer law for themselves, and Tommy’s body tingled all over at the very thought of those boots and fists playing about his diminutive person. The captain wore a pilot coat, the top button of which was fastened. The chronometer, as Tommy knew, was in the right-hand pocket of the vest, with no chain or guard attached. There was both a watch and chain in the opposite pocket, but that was only of silver, and had no attraction for Tommy.