that is made there are a dozen ‘chances’ given.
“One night when I was on point duty at the corner of Westbourne Grove a man came up to me. I knew him by sight — a slinkin’, sly chap, whose name was Hamming, but who was better known as Ginger.
“‘Evenin’, Mr. Lee,’ he said. ‘Do you want a good cop?’
“I looks at him. ‘Are you thinkin’ of givin’ yourself up?’ I said.
“He shuffled uncomfortably. ‘You must have your joke, Mr. Lee,’ he grinned, ‘but this is a real thing; it’s a bloke with a “brief” who ain’t reported.’
“‘What’s his name?’
“‘What do I get for givin’ information?’ he asked cunnin’ly.
“‘A thick ear, if you’re ever found out,’ I said. ‘What’s his name?’
“Well, he wouldn’t tell me, but kept hagglin’ an’ bargainin’ as to what he’d get, an’ though he didn’t know it, all the time I was questionin’ him I was getting some idea of who the chap was an’ whereabouts he lived.
“Of course, it wasn’t my duty to go into the matter; I should have sent him straight to the station to see the inspector, but I was curious to know who the poor devil was he was tryin’ to send back to Portland, an’ by an’ by it came out. It was a decent quiet man who’d got five years for falsifyin’ accounts, an’ who had been released on ticket of leave more than a year before. Men on ‘brief’ have got to report to the nearest station periodically givin’ their changes of address, an’ the penalty for not reportin’ is that they generally are sent back to prison to complete their sentences.
“Sometimes they don’t report because they’ve got a job an’ are afraid that if the story of their imprisonment comes to the ears of their new masters they will he thrown out of employment.
“My duty as an officer was to report what Ginger had told me, but sometimes a policeman uses his discretion, an’ after I’d told the informer to see me next night I went along to the Burkley Head, which is on my beat, an’ passed the word to Nick Moss, who was inside, that I wanted to see him.
“Nick is what I call a ‘straight thief’. He wouldn’t sell a man to save his life, an’ all the information the police have ever got out of Nick wouldn’t have convicted a man of vagrancy.
“‘Go round to that little carpenter feller that lives in Ogshott Street,’ said I. ‘He’s out on a “brief”. Tell him on the quiet that if he doesn’t want a laggin’ he’d better nip round to the station an’ report his change of address.’
“Nick nodded an’ went.
“From what I’ve heard, the little carpenter reported, an’ got a good talkin’ to from the inspector an’ there was an end of it so far as he was concerned, for the police knew he was tryin’ to go straight an’ took no steps to worry him.
“But it wasn’t the end with Ginger, who was terribly disappointed at losin’ some blood money.
“He blamed me, you can he sure, an’ soon after that he started gettin’ up a little surprise party for my special benefit. It was winter time, an’ a cold, wretched winter was, so when one mornin’ about two o’clock Ginger came out of his house — it was on my beat — an’ asked me civilly whether I’d like a cup of tea, I didn’t think twice about it, bein’ perished with cold, but said ‘Yes.’
“‘Would you come inside, Mr. Lee?’ he said civilly.
“‘I’ll have it outside. You’re early this morning, Ginger.’
“‘Yes, Mr. Lee,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the promise of a job at Covent Garden Market, so I’m doin’ the bright-an’-early act. Won’t you come in?’
“I was tempted, I’ll admit. It was terribly cold, an’ the prospect of a cup of tea…. But I said ‘No’ an’ Ginger went inside. By an’ by he came back with a steamin’ cup an’ very good tea it was, as it ought to have been, seein’ that it was probably stolen from some warehouse or other.
“I tasted it carefully, to see if he was up to any hanky-panky, but it was all right, an’ I finished the cup.
“I had hardly handed it to him when the inspector on duty came round the corner, accompanied by the sergeant.
“‘What’s this, Lee?’ said the inspector.
“‘Takin’ a cup of tea, sir,’ I replied.
“‘Me an’ the constable have been havin’ a quiet talk in front of my fire,’ said Ginger. ‘Don’t be hard on him, sir, he hasn’t been in my house more than an hour.’
“‘Is this true?’ asked the inspector.
“‘No, sir,’ I said. I knew I could prove I’d met the constable on the next beat not ten minutes ago, but I was curious to hear what lie Ginger would tell next.
“If you expect that he told a plausible tale or that it was in any way ingenious, you’ll be disappointed. Ginger was a very average type of a low down thief, an’ his yarn was as bald as a baby’s head.
“The inspector told me afterwards that he’d received an anonymous letter saying that P.C. Lee was in the habit of going into Ginger’s house to loaf in the middle of the night, an’ that was why he’d paid his surprise visit.
“This incident wouldn’t be of any interest but for the events which followed.
“At four o’clock that mornin’ Detective Sergeant Fallow came up to me.
“‘I want you to walk as far as Portobello Road — I’m going to “pull in” Jewey Isaacs,’ he told me.
“Jewey Isaacs lives in a street off the road, an’ is well known to us as a bad character. When I say ‘bad character’ I mean a man who has been ‘inside’ half a dozen times for serious offences, an’ the particular crime for which he was wanted at present was an armed burglary down in Essex.
‘He’ll give us some trouble,’ said the sergeant. ‘This means a lifer for Jewey, so you can expect him to shoot. Have you got your stick?’
‘‘Yes, sergeant,’ I said, an’ showed him the little private truncheon I always carry. It was given to me by a gentleman I helped once, an’ is made of a thick, short length of rhinoceros hide. I’ve only had to use it half a dozen times in my life, an’ I’ve never struck the same man twice with it.
“‘We got to Jewey’s little house, an’ was joined by another constable.
“In a case like this, it would be a fatal mistake to knock at the door, an’ a worse to break the door down, so when Sergeant Fallow produced a bunch of skeleton keys an’ unlocked it I wasn’t very much surprised. He knew exactly where Jewey was sleeping, an’ as we made our way up the stairs as noiselessly as possible, he whispered ‘First floor front!’
“We’d got to the landing when we heard the thud of Jewey’s feet as he jumped out of bed.
‘‘Who’s
