Then his dress had notable points. He generally wore a knitted jersey in place of a waistcoat, and he had a grey felt hat covered with grease spots, for which he had such a peculiar affection that he never changed it for a new one. Under these circumstances it may be thought that a conviction would have been easily got against Dave. But Dave was “Yorkshire,” as I have indicated, and about as smart and cunning in arranging an _alibi_ as any I ever met. No doubt his racing powers helped him in that, but his native cunning did more. There is a popular impression that a Yorkshire man will hold his own in cunning against all the world, but I have here to record that Dave met his match in a Scotchman who had nothing like Dave’s reputation for smartness, and who was so stupid-looking that few could have conceived him capable of the task. This man was known in racing circles—for he was a pedestrian too—as Jake Mackay, but more generally received the nickname of “The Gander.” Why he had been so named I cannot tell—perhaps because some one had discovered that there was nothing of the goose about him. Your stupid-looking man, who is not stupid but supremely sharp-witted, has an infinite advantage over those who carry a needle eye like Dave Larkins, and have cunning printed on every line about their lips and eyes. The Gander was not a professional thief, though he was often in the company of thieves. He had been in the army, and had a pension, which he eked out by odd jobs, such as bill-posting and acting as “super.” in the theatres. He was a thorough rascal at heart, and would have cheated his own grandfather had opportunity served, and had there been a shilling or two to gain by it.