The offer was jumped at by the hawker, the more so as Joson told him he would give him a trifle to start with when he should reach the metropolis. One afternoon, accordingly, they met at an appointed place, and walked towards Granton together. As a touching proof of his confidence, the lame man entrusted Poulson with a bundle of his to carry. The bundle was not very large, but it was heavy. When they reached Trinity, the lame man said he could walk no further, and took a penny ride by rail for the rest of the way, the agreement being that they were to meet on board the steamer. M^cSweeny, who had got word of the movement from the organ-grinder, was already at the ticket office at Granton Pier. The lame man went on board unchecked. Half an hour later Poulson appeared, carrying the bundle given him by the lame man, and was promptly stopped by M^cSweeny. The weight of the bundle gave my chum great hope, and for once he was not disappointed. When the bundle was opened at the station-house, there was found within a bag of coarse green cloth, containing 203 sovereigns. Then the hawker confessed that he had got the bundle from the lame man to carry, but was well laughed at for his pains. By that time the London steamer had sailed, and it appeared probable that the lame man had gone with it, for he was nowhere to be found. M^cSweeny was very proud of his capture, but while he was thus engaged I had been busy in another quarter. A slater had gone up on to the roof of the house upon which I had made my fishing experiment, and found there a long iron rod, bent at the end and fitted with a sharp hook. The moment I got word of this discovery I made the circuit of the district to find the nearest blacksmith, and from him I learned that the rod had been made to order by him for “a lame man who played the whistle on the streets.” Back to the organ-grinder I went, and tried the patent rod down his chimney with perfect success. I hooked up the dummy bag at the very first attempt. At the same time I drew from the organ-grinder a confession that “in drink” he was very loquacious and communicative. I had now no doubt but he had in some such unguarded moment allowed the lame man to draw from him part of his secret, the man’s native cunning and ingenuity filling up the blanks. I now wished very much to see Joson, and with that end in view took the night mail for London. I was in the city long before the steamer arrived, and waiting for it at the wharf when it slowly crept up the river. No tender relative could have looked out for a dear friend with more anxious solicitude than I did for the face of the cripple whistle-player, and, as luck had it, his was almost the first face I saw. He was looking over the taffrail, and evidently viewing the lively scene with great interest, for he saw no one—not even me—till my hand was laid upon his arm with the words— “Well, Joson, I’m glad to see you. I hope you’ve had a good passage?”