'And where and when did this extraordinary event take place?'
inquired the father.

'On the Calton Hill about twelve last night.'

'The Calton Hill?' repeated Mr. Nicholson. 'And what were
you doing there at such a time of the night?'

'Nothing, sir,' says John.

Mr. Nicholson drew in his breath.

'And how came the money in your hands at twelve last night?'
he asked, sharply.

'I neglected that piece of business,' said John, anticipating
comment; and then in his own dialect: 'I clean forgot all
about it.'

'Well,' said his father, 'it's a most extraordinary story.
Have you communicated with the police?'

'I have,' answered poor John, the blood leaping to his face.
'They think they know the men that did it. I dare say the
money will be recovered, if that was all,' said he, with a
desperate indifference, which his father set down to levity;
but which sprung from the consciousness of worse behind.

'Your mother's watch, too?' asked Mr. Nicholson.