but one corner of it was seen above his pocket.
This careless way of men putting their pocket-books into a coat-pocket, which is so easily dived into by the least boy that has been used to the trade, can never be too much blamed. The gentlemen are in great hurries, their heads and thoughts entirely taken up, and it is impossible they should be guarded enough against such little hawk’s-eyed creatures as we were; and, therefore, they ought either never to put their pocketbooks up at all, or to put them up more secure, or to put nothing of value into them. I happened to be just opposite to this gentleman in that they call Swithin’s Alley, or that alley rather which is between Swithin’s Alley and the Exchange, just by a passage that goes out of the alley into the Exchange, when, seeing the book pass and repass into the pocket and out of the pocket as above, it came immediately into my head, certainly I might get that pocket-book out if I were nimble, and I warrant Will would have it, if he saw it go and come to and again as I did. But when I saw it hang by the way, as I have said, «Now it is mine», said I to myself, and, crossing the alley, I brushed smoothly but closely by the man, with my hand down flat to my own side, and, taking hold of it by the corner that appeared, the book came so light into my hand, it was impossible the gentleman should feel the least motion, or anybody else see me take it away. I went directly forward into the broad place on the north side of the Exchange, then scoured down Bartholomew Lane, so into Tokenhouse Yard, into the alleys which pass through from thence to London Wall, so through Moorgate, and sat down on the grass in the second of the quarters of Moorfields, towards the middle field; which was the place that Will and I had appointed to meet at if either of us got any booty. When I came thither Will was not come; but I saw him coming in about half-an-hour.
As soon as Will came to me I asked him what booty he had gotten. He looked pale, and, as I thought, frighted; but he returned, «I have got nothing, not I; but, you lucky young dog», says he, «what have you got? Have not you got the gentleman’s pocket-book in Swithin’s Alley?» «Yes», says I, and laughed at him; «why, how did you know it?» «Know it!» says he. «Why, the gentleman is raving and half distracted; he stamps and cries and tears his very clothes. He says he is utterly undone and ruined, and the folks in the alley say there is I know not how many thousand pounds in it. What can be in it?» says Will. «Come, let us see».
Well, we lay close in the grass in the middle of the quarter, so that nobody minded us; and so we opened the pocket-book, and there was a great many bills and notes under men’s hands; some goldsmiths’, and some belonging to insurance offices, as they call them, and the like. But that which was, it seems, worth all the rest was that, in one of the folds of the cover of the book, where there was a case with several partitions, there was a paper full of loose diamonds. The man, as we understood afterward, was a Jew, who dealt in such goods, and who indeed ought to have taken more care of the keeping of them.
Now was this booty too great, even for Will himself, to manage; for though by this time I was come to understand things better than I did formerly, when I knew not what belonged to money, yet Will was better skilled by far in those things than I. But this puzzled him too, as well as me. Now were we something like the cock in the fable; for all these bills, and I think there was one bill of Sir Henry Furness’s for £ 1200, and all these diamonds, which were worth about £ 150, as they said – I say, all these things were of no value to us: one little purse of gold would have been better to us than all of it. «But come», says Will, «let us look over the bills for a little one».
We looked over all the bills, and among them we found a bill under a man’s hand for £ 32. «Come», says Will, «let us go and inquire where this man lives». So he went into the City again, and Will went to the post-house, and asked there. They told him he lived at Temple Bar. «Well», says Will, «I will venture. I’ll go and receive the money; it may be he has not remembered to send to stop the payment there».
But it came into his thoughts to take another course. «Come», says Will, «I’ll go back to the alley, and see if I can hear anything of what has happened, for I believe the hurry is not over yet». It seems the man who lost the book was carried into the King’s Head tavern at the end of that alley, and a great crowd was about the door.
Away goes Will, and watches and waits about the place; and then, seeing several people together, for they were not all dispersed, he asks one or two what was the matter. They tell him a long story of a gentleman who had lost his pocket-book, with a great bag of diamonds in it, and bills for a great many thousand pounds, and I know not what; and that they had been just crying it, and had offered £ 100 reward to any one who would discover and restore it.
«I wish», said he to one of them that parleyed with him, «I did but know who has it; I don’t doubt but I could help him to it again. Does he remember nothing of anybody, boy or fellow, that was near him? If he could but describe him, it might do». Somebody that overheard him was so forward to assist the poor gentleman that they went up and let him know what a young fellow, meaning Will, had been talking at the door; and down comes another gentleman from him, and, taking Will aside, asked him what he had said about it. Will was a grave sort of a young man, that, though he was an old soldier at the trade, had yet nothing of it in his countenance; and he answered that he was concerned in business where a great many of the gangs of little pickpockets haunted, and if he had but the least description of the person they suspected, he durst say he could find him out, and might perhaps get the things again for him. Upon this he desired him to go up with him to the gentleman, which he did accordingly; and there, he said, he sat leaning his head back to the chair, pale as a cloth, disconsolate to a strange degree, and, as Will described him, just like one under a sentence.
When they came to ask him whether he had seen no boy or shabby fellow lurking near where he stood, or passing, or repassing, and the like, he answered, «No, not any». Neither could he remember that anybody had come near him. «Then», said Will, «it will be very hard, if not impossible, to find them out. However», said Will, «if you think it worth while, I will put myself among those rogues, though», says he, «I care not for being seen among them. But I will put in among them, and if it be in any of those gangs, it is ten to one but I shall hear something of it».
They asked him then if he had heard what terms the gentleman had offered to have it restored; he answered, «No» (though he had been told at the door). They answered, he had offered £ 100. «That is too much», says Will; «but if you please to leave it to me, I shall either get it for you for less than that, or not be able to get it for you at all». Then the losing gentleman said to one of the other, «Tell him that if he can get it lower, the overplus shall be to himself». William said he would be very glad to do the gentleman such a service, and would leave the reward to himself. «Well, young man», says one of the gentlemen, «whatever you appoint to the young artist that has done this roguery (for I warrant he is an artist, let it be who it will), he shall be paid, if it be within the £ 100, and the gentleman is willing to give you £ 50 besides for your pains».
«Truly, sir», says Will very gravely, «it was by mere chance that, coming by the door, and seeing the crowd, I asked what the matter was. But if I should be instrumental to get the unfortunate gentleman his pocket-book and the things in it again, I shall be very glad; nor am I so rich neither, sir, but £ 50 is very well worth my while too». Then he took directions who to come to, and who to give his account to if he learned anything, and the like.
Will stayed so long that, as he and I agreed, I went home, and he did not come to me till night; for we had considered before that it would not be proper to come from them directly to me, lest they should follow him and apprehend me. If he had made no advances towards a treaty, he would have come back in half-an-hour, as we agreed; but staying late, we met at our night rendezvous, which was in Rosemary Lane.
When he came he gave an account of all the discourse, and particularly what a consternation the gentleman was in who lost the pocket-book, and that he did not doubt but we should get a good round sum for the recovery of it.
We consulted all the evening about it, and concluded he should let them hear nothing of them the next
