were driven out into the street, where, I suppose, their
monkey-minds soon found other game, a horse fallen down, or a
drunken woman in the gutter, to divert their idleness. Such
sights seem to attract a London crowd at once.

The boys were strictly searched by the constable. The booty from
their pockets was turned out upon the table.

"Now, sir," said the constable to the bearded man, after he had
made a note of my story. "What is it they 'ad of you, sir?"

"A shagreen leather pocket-book," said the man. "There it is."

"This one?" said the constable.

"Yes."

"Oh," said the constable, opening the clasps, so that he could
examine the writing on the leaves. "What's inside?"

"A lot of figures," said the man. "Sums. Problems in arithmetic."

"Right," said the constable, handing over the book.

"Here you are, sir. What name, sir?"

"Edward Jermyn."

"Edward German," the constable repeated.