"There's a row among the gang—a split.
What it is, I cannot make out, but our luck
is certainly on the mend, for this very day,
after we left Jermyn-street, and while I was
getting my chop in the Haymarket, up comes a
fellow dressed like a country parson, only with
a very bad wig that even a parson wouldn't
wear, and sits down opposite. When the waiter's
back was turned, he took off his left-hand glove,
and showed his thumb—black as ink! 'Hem!'
says the reverend gentleman. 'Hem!' says I.
' You want an audience of my lord?' says the
country parson. ' Well,' says I, using my toothpick:
' I—well —I should like to have a couple
o' words with him; but it ain't pressing, or I
could easily prevail on his porter, or one of his
lackeys, to show me up.'

"' You're a liar,' replied the reverend gentleman,
but not rudely. ' You couldn't do nothing
o' the sort, and you knows it. Think you can
gammon me?*

"' 'Twould take a sharper chap than me to do
that, Mr.—Smith,' says I, civilly (for he's
open to flattery, is Bob Caunter). 'But about
this said porter. I still think—'

"' The porter's come to you, Master Armour,'
says he, cutting me short, ' to tell you that if
you want my lord, you must look for him tonight,
or not at all. Our establishment's broke
up. The head cook's giv' warning. The butler's
sold the lush and bolted with the money. There's
a paragraph gone to the Newsman—you'll see it
to-morrow: " Fash'nable movement.—Lord Lob
he's giv' up his princely establishment in the
Adelphi, and left London with his soote, for a
perlonged tour." '

"' Are you telling me the truth?' I says, as
a matter of form.

"'Yes, I am,' says he, grinding his teeth
savagely. ' He's a tyrant and—and a thief!'

"'No! Nonsense!' says I. ' You can't mean
that. Thief?'

"'You come to-night,' he says, 'that's all.
Nine o'clock, punctual. Here,' and he wrote an
address on a card. ' Bring a hundred redbreasts
if you like, only keep 'em dark till they're
wanted.'

"'All right,' says I. 'What's the porter's
fee?'

"' Gratified revenge,' said the fellow, putting
his mouth close to my ear, and was off before I
could get out another word."

"A fortunate split," said the pleased magistrate.
"Success attend you!"

About nine that evening, Mr. Armour, in seedy
attire, with two brace of pistols in his pockets,
sauntered carelessly along the Strand, while a
very close observer might have been aware of
other five seedy figures, moving in a like direction,
and, gradually diminishing the intervals
between him and each other, as all converged
towards the entrance of a dark and narrow side-
street in the Adelphi.

An individual in rusty black, walking in
the same direction, here brushed past the officer,
who turned and spoke to his nearest
follower.

"Watch the house, number nineteen; come to
shot or whistle. If I don't reappear in twenty
minutes, force entrance."

The man in black halted at the bottom, before
a corner house, one face of which apparently
looked upon the river. As Armour closed up to
him, he muttered interrogatively,
"You've enough?"

"Nine," replied the other, coolly, throwing in
the additional four as a compliment.

"Get them closer. Are you mad? Follow
me."

Armour made a signal to the folks in darkness,
then boldly entered the robbers' den.

"How many?" he asked, glancing up the
dark and narrow stair.

"Alone," was the answer. " In the lumber-
garret, at the very top of the house; no retreat
but by this stair, or a jump of ninety feet into
the Thames."

Armour's pulse beat a thought quicker. He
could hardly imagine that the redoubted robber
would be captured so easily. He gripped a pistol
with one hand, and his conductor's arm with the
other.

"Look you, my friend, if you play the doubles
on me, you, at least, shall not live to brag of it."

"Don't be an infernal fool!" was the reply.
"Keep quiet. We're within ten steps of his
door. I'm going in. Stand close, and, when
you hear me stumble over a chair, dash in. I'll
help you, if necessary."

Towards the top, the staircase became so
narrow that one person alone could with difficulty
pass. Above, was a small landing, and at
the back of it a door, through the cracks of which
light was streaming.

The officer stood aside, in the darkness, while
his guide made a signal at the door, and, without
awaiting answer, quietly entered. There was a
low murmur of voices, in question and answer, but
though they occasionally rose high enough for the
alert listener to distinguish words, he was unable
to make out a connected sentence. Then there
was a pause. Some one paced the room; perhaps
the traitor, preparing the way for his signal--
then there was a shuffling of feet—then there was
silence again. Armour began to fear that his
people might break in, and increase the difficulty
as much as they would diminish the glory
of the capture, by making an alarm. No! A
chair was suddenly dashed from end to end of
the apartment. The officer rushed in, like a
bulldog!

Half dazzled by the blaze of light, it required
a second or two to show him that he stood in a
small well-furnished apartment, in which was one
person only: a young man, habited in a rich loose
dressing-gown, and embroidered cap, seated at a
table, on which were wines and fruit, smoking a
Turkish pipe. He had a fair womanish face,
and, with a rather languishing, dandified manner,
motioned to the astonished officer to take a chair.