I had now done with experiments, and set myself to something practical by hunting for the absconding hawker. The finding of his whereabouts was no difficult matter. He was well known, and though out of the city, he had to pursue his calling to get a living, and so a few messages across the adjoining counties soon revealed the fact that Poulson, after an eccentric tour, was returning to Edinburgh for a fresh stock. I was surprised at the news. I had fully expected that a man with 207 stolen sovereigns in his possession would not only cease working for a while, but give the scene of his exploit a wide berth for some time to come. At length I heard that he was in the city, and went to his house to look for him. As I had expected, he was not there, and had not been near the place. There was another place known to him, as I had discovered through Tom Joson, the lame man, in which any one who had means could hide for any length of time. I had been in that den before, and went there direct. It was a quiet place, down near the bottom of the North Back Canongate. The house was entered by an outside stair in a dark court, where there were excellent corners for concealment. I took up my position there as soon as it was dark, and had not been long there before I saw a man enter the court, take in all the bearings of the place much as I had done myself, and then select a corner quite as good as my own. In this he ensconced himself so coolly that in sheer wonder I crossed the court and grabbed him by the shoulder. Then in the dim light I recognised a sheriff-officer well known to me. “Hullo! are you watching for some one too?” I exclaimed. “Yes, and a bonnie chase I’ve had,” he growled in a whisper. “It’s a hawker called Poulson——” “Ah, indeed! and what do you want him for?” “Oh, just an affiliation case—decree for ten pounds and expenses, and the usual aliment. I’ve been all over Fife after him, and he knows it. Fourpence a mile will never pay me for all the trouble I’ve had. I know he’s in here, but I’ll wait till he comes out. I wouldn’t go into that den for a hundred pounds. They’d jump on me and stave in my ribs, or break my leg as soon as look at me.” “Then, if you’re sure he’s in here, let’s go in together,” I answered; “I’ll warrant they won’t jump on me, or break my leg either. I want Poulson, too; what are we to do with him when we get him, eh?—halve him?” “Oh, you can keep him if we get him,” he returned, with a gruesome shrug of the shoulders. “He’ll be as safe with you as any one.” We ascended the stair and knocked, and after some delay were admitted. Poulson, they said, was not there, and of course we did not see him. After locking the outer door on the inside and pocketing the key, I went over the three rooms. In the windows of two apartments adjoining each other there were fixed boxes, with lids, which appeared to be used as seats.