In some of the isles of the Pacific, I have been told, it is not uncommon for a spider, while in the act of seizing and sucking the heart’s blood of a tender and juicy fly, to be himself pounced upon by a larger insect peculiar to the clime, having as keen a zest for raw spider as the spider has for fresh fly. Nature repeats itself in all its grades and conditions. Human spiders abound among my “bairns,” but then fortunately the spider-devourer occasionally crops up in the same class. In passing through one of the fashionable crescents down in the New Town, one day about noon, on some business which admitted of little delay, I was a little surprised to see one of the most cunning rogues within my ken ascend the steps of a big main-door house, and ring the bell as coolly as if the residence had been his own. Peter Hart was an exceedingly cautious rascal who could never be caught napping, or booked for anything like the sentence he deserved, from the fact that he never personally conducted any operation which he could conveniently transfer to a “cat’s paw.” That was the man whom I saw ascend the steps of that fine residence. What was the villain after there? My business was urgent, but the effrontery of the knave pointed so clearly to some carefully-planned crime that I instinctively slackened my pace to watch if he should enter the house. Unfortunately I had been almost upon him before aware of his identity, and these quiet crescents are almost deserted by day, so there was no opportunity for concealment before his quick eyes, ever on the alert, had turned round and taken in the position at a glance. Peter’s impression probably was, that I had been following him all the way from his house in James’ Square. He might have known me better. Had the meeting been anything but a purely accidental one, I should never have allowed him to get a glimpse of me, more especially at that critical moment. I fully expected Peter to cave in at the first glimpse of me, and slink off from the house at his smartest; but, to my surprise, he only bestowed upon me a patronising wink and a confident grin, and stood still to await the answering of his ring. His coolness did not seem to me that of sheer impudence or audacity. It seemed to be boastful and exultant—as much as if he had said, “Ah, Jamie, what a lot of trouble you have had for nothing. Here I am safe from you; just try me and see.”