"Now, Mister Jonas Straitlace," said Jinks, "I'd have you to remember that I don't give professional advice for nought, any more than other lawyers. You came here to ask my help and instruction, and I engaged to give it you for two sovereigns: pay me that down, and I undertake that you shall find your apprentice at home when you return." The saddler felt enraged at the villain's impudence, but the constable was against him:—"If you made that bargain you had better keep it," said the functionary, "and if this man breaks it, then I shall be witness to it." And Straitlace felt he was so awkwardly fixed in that suspicious place, and between the two, that he gave Jinks the two sovereigns. Had he kept a strict watch upon the motions of the constable and Jinks he would have seen them share the booty, ere they hurried down the stair. Straitlace reached home, and found that Sam had returned, but was again departed. His deaf wife could only tell that she had scolded him, and made him get to work in the shop without his breakfast; but she did not know when he went off again. The condition of the "till," in the shop, fully proclaimed the way in which Sam had employed himself during his brief stay. It had been forcibly wrested from its place, though strongly fixed, and robbed of its contents, which were not great, but were sufficient to destroy, by their loss, the peace of Mr. Straitlace's spiritual mind for many a day after. Straitlace sat down to his work instead of going again in search of Sam Simkins. Of what value would a thief be to me? was one question he asked himself; and—shall I spend in law, to prosecute him, more money than I have thrown away already? was another. A few days after, he met the constable in Birmingham, and related his disaster. "You act wisest to keep quiet," said the constable: "it seems the man kept his word in sending the lad home,—so that I don't see how you could have the law of him, there; and as for the young scoundrel, he would do you no good:—good-day, sir." Straitlace did not know whether there was any soundness in the man's observation about law; but he was loath to spend more money or lose his time,—so he gave Sam up. The lad returned to Jinks's "hiding-hole," and received great commendations for the clever way in which he had used the "jemmy," or small steel crowbar, which Jinks had entrusted to him. The robbery of his master's till was his first performance with this crack tool that old gaol-birds chirp so much of; but it was not his last, by many a score. He progressed in skill till he became the favourite comrade of Wide-mouthed Bob, and the two were the terror of the neighbourhood for years.