"Where d' you live, sir?"

"At Mr. Scott's in Fish Lane."

"Right, sir," said the constable, writing down the address, "You
must appear tomorrow at ten before Mr. Garry, the magistrate.
You, too, young master, to give your evidence."

At this the boys burst out crying, begging us not to appear,
using all those deceptive arts which the London thieves practise
from childhood. I, who was new to the world's deceits, was
touched to the marrow by their seeming misery. The constable
roughly silenced them. "I know you, he said. "I had my eye on you
two ever since Christmas. Now you'll go abroad to do a bit of
honest work, instead of nickin' pockets. Stow your blubbering
now, or I'll give you Mogador Jack." He produced "Mogador Jack,"
a supple shark's backbone, from behind the door. The tears
stopped on the instant.

After this, the bearded man showed me the way back to Fish Lane,
where Ephraim, who was at the door, looking out for me) gave me a
shrewd scolding, for venturing out without a guide.

Mr. Jermyn silenced him by giving him a shilling. The next day,
Mr. Jermyn took me to the magistrate's house, where the two
thieves were formally committed for trial. Mr. Jermyn told me
that they would probably be transported for seven years, on
conviction at the Assizes; but that, as they were young, the
honest work abroad, in the plantations, might be the saving of
them. "So do not be so sad, Mr. Martin," he said. "You do not