I happened one afternoon to meet Brettle himself, and, though he generally showed great hostility to me, and never exchanged words with me if he could avoid it, I thought I would have a word with him in passing. “How are you getting on Bob?” I pleasantly asked, before he could hurry past. “Not getting on at all,” he gloomily answered. “I’ve been trying to get work, but can’t.” I opened my eyes to their widest, and for a moment could scarcely speak. “What kind of work?” I cautiously inquired, thinking he might mean his adopted trade of housebreaking. “Any kind—anything to keep life in me,” he cried, with some bitterness. “I’m sick of prison, and don’t mean to go inside of one again if I can live on the square.” I could scarcely trust my own senses. I had never expected such words out of his mouth; and then, after the hint I had received from Dirty Dick, I was doubly suspicious, and must have looked the feeling. Could it be possible that he was trying to deceive me for some purpose? I could not believe it. It was quite out of his line. He was not of the stuff out of which a good hypocrite could be made. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve come to your senses,” I dryly remarked. “What has given you the notion?” “I don’t know, but the spunk’s all gone out of me,” he dejectedly answered. “I haven’t my wife now.” “Oh, indeed! what has become of her?” I asked with fresh interest. “Gone,” he said, with a sorrowful shake of the head and a quiver of the lip. “Gone where?” “Gone dead, I’m afraid,” he huskily answered. “If she’d been alive she would have met me whenever I got out. She worshipped the very ground I trod on. I hear she went on the stage as a ballet-girl after I was laid up, and that and the loss of me killed her, I suppose. We had a bit of a tiff before I was took. I was so hanged jealous of her—but that was nothing. The like of her doesn’t walk the earth. True as steel, and she loved me so!” I said nothing; for if I had spoken I should have had to say that if the loss of Pretty Polly made him adopt an honest life, her absence would be a blessing. I chatted away for a little, and then said abruptly— “What was your object in telling me you were going on the square?” I thought perhaps that he might want assistance. “What was your object in speaking to me?” he roughly and snappishly returned. “I had no object at all. I know that the more thieves there are the better it is for you.” “You’re mistaken there, Bob, and I’ll prove it some day,” I answered pleasantly, and then I left him. My curiosity was roused regarding Brettle, and I took the trouble to have him watched, when I discovered that he really was trying to get work, and even undertaking the meanest drudgery to earn a living. Everything was against him, of course, and he went back steadily till his clothes would scarcely allow him to appear on the street.