kind of business, McCunn."

"No more do I. But you'll do it to oblige an old friend and a
good customer. If you don't know much about the packages you
know all about me. Now, mind, I trust you."

Mr. Mackintosh forced himself to a joke. "Did you maybe steal them?"

Dickson grinned. "Just what I did. And that being so, I want you
to let me out by the back door."

When he found himself in the street he felt the huge relief of
a boy who had emerged with credit from the dentist's chair.
Remembering that here would be no midday dinner for him at home,
his first step was to feed heavily at a restaurant. He had, so far
as he could see, surmounted all his troubles, his one regret being
that he had lost his pack, which contained among other things his
Izaak Walton and his safety razor. He bought another razor and a new
Walton, and mounted an electric tram car en route for home.

Very contented with himself he felt as the car swung across the
Clyde bridge. He had done well--but of that he did not want to think,
for the whole beastly thing was over. He was going to bury that memory,
to be resurrected perhaps on a later day when the unpleasantness had
been forgotten. Heritage had his address, and knew where to come when
it was time to claim the jewels. As for the watchers, they must have
ceased to suspect him, when they discovered the innocent contents of
his knapsack and Mrs. Morran's box. Home for him, and a luxurious tea
by his own fireside; and then an evening with his books, for Heritage's
nonsense had stimulated his literary fervour. He would dip into his