Nothing more was said on the subject at the time; but though Hutton appeared to laugh heartily at the idea, the words had planted a strange thought in his mind, and before leaving he drew the marker aside, and began cautiously sounding him on the subject nearest and dearest to his own heart.

“I suppose,” he said at last, “that having been a thief yourself, you will be well acquainted with the members of the fraternity—by sight, I mean, even here in Edinburgh?”

“Well acquainted?—rather!” was the knowing rejoinder, given with an expressive wink. “I know every blessed prig in Edinburgh.”

“I will be candid with you,” cautiously continued the student. “I have not asked without a reason. Do you think, now, that you could recommend me any one that would do a job of the kind for me?”

“What! is it possible? Do you want to commit a robbery!” exclaimed the marker, starting back in surprise.

“No, not exactly,” was the smiling rejoinder; “but I want something done which only a thief can do, and which would certainly look like a robbery to most people. I will explain. A friend of mine has in her possession a picture which I am anxious to copy. She refuses to lend it, and all I want is to borrow it by force for a week or a fortnight, when it would be faithfully returned.”

“Hem—seems all fair and above board,” ponderingly returned the marker. “You’re sure, though, that you don’t mean to do a slope with the picture after all? Because, if you do, you’ve come to the wrong man. I would not commit a real robbery myself for any consideration, or help another to do it.”

“You need have no fear on that account,” haughtily returned the student. “I would not dream of retaining in my possession a thing so religiously prized by its owner. I wish to copy it—nothing more. Do you know any one who would do the job for a fair sum, faithfully and honestly?”

“Well, as to that, there’s dozens would be glad of the chance,” replied the marker; “but I don’t think you could get a better hand than Coreing Jim, the Paisley Wire.”

“And who may he be, if I may inquire?”

“Oh, he is one of The Ruffian’s gang—a clever enough young cove in his way, but a little rash and reckless with his hands. However, if you were to strictly warn him against all violence, I daresay it would come off all right—especially as you say there would be little trouble about the job.”

“No trouble at all,” eagerly rejoined the student. “She is an old woman, living in a poor locality, at the very top of the stair, with not another near her. The door is so flimsy and rickety that I myself could burst it in with one hand”; and then he hurriedly detailed the facts already known to the reader.

“Well, I don’t mind obliging you. I’ll take you to where you are likely to see the Paisley Wire,” said the marker; “but mind, if anything happens, or any evil befalls the old woman, I’ll peach as sure as guns; so weigh well the risk before you go a step further.”

“Risk? There is no risk,” blindly reasoned the student, in an impatient burst. “Besides, I’m determined to have a loan of the picture, even were it for only twenty-four hours. I believe that the masterly execution and delicate colouring there is not another such picture in Scotland.”

This conversation had been carried on in whispers in the tap-room, in which there was at the time only one other person, a seedy-looking man in a faded black suit, who appeared to be fast asleep, with his head resting on a bundle of newspapers on the table near the fire. The moment the arrangement had been concluded, the student and marker left the room and house together; and then the man by the fire cautiously raised his head and disclosed the whisky-tacketed face and cunning eyes of Simon Penbank. Finding himself quite alone, he shook himself into through wakefulness, and gleefully rubbed his hands.