impulse, but we may depend upon it that nothing but relentless force can retain in such subjection. We sometimes hear of the mode and degree in which the ticket-of-leave man is dogged by the police, and how on his attempting to return to honesty he finds an ever ready finger in his way pointing him out as untrustworthy. This would seem to be as nothing to the surveillance exercised by the secret associations of thieves.
Their method of proceeding is apparently this: Through the instrumentality of individual members they discover and tamper with likely subjects, at first proceeding without direct persuasion to dishonesty. They open their trenches against such points as frivolity and vanity; they entangle in some fault, and then, in the consequent distress and destitution, come forward in the character of friends. A new place, we will say, is obtained by false recommendations supplied by them. As to this there is no difficulty, for they have correspondents all over the country, ready to answer any inquiries, and so are enabled to furnish the most unexceptionable recommendations. This preliminary over, there remains no more difficulty in their dealing with their victim, nor any concealment as to the real nature of their doings. The person is simply told that she (or he) must now act as directed, under pain of denouncement for the offence already past. The object then is to get them committed to some grave offence against the law, which under the circumstances is seldom difficult. From that point there remains for the law breaker nothing but a life of continual transgression under most hateful constraint, till the convict hulks or the gallows close the scene.
All this I gathered from Jane, and such was the reason why she refused to be comforted; why kind and earnest friends, friends who would go through great difficulties to serve her, were of no avail in her extremity. They might save her from external assaults, but they could not save her from herself, they could not annul her own doings. She had been, under that dreadful influence, led into an abyss from which there seemed to be no refuge. Sobbingly she told me of the first girlish indiscretion which had led to her loss of place and character, and how she had accepted of evil aid to reinstate herself. Thenceforward the descent had been rapid, and at that time of speaking to me, she stood implicated in the guilt of a robbery that was enough to transport her for life. Since coming to my friend Tomkins's, a change had been brought over her spirit; she had learned to love the family, and the wondrous transmutation that love will work had been wrought in her. She longed to leave violence and wickedness, and to return into the way of peace. But the mandate had been received by her which she dared not disobey, and which it would be worse than death to obey. For this reason it was, and for this reason alone, that she sought to with draw herself from her present place. She had not dared to make a full disclosure to her mistress, but hail written her such a letter as she thought likely to put her on her guard, and perhaps prevent the evil issue.
"But why not cut the matter short," I cried, "why not let me go at once to the station and give such information as would lead to the apprehension of the whole gang, and stop their trade for good and all?"
Jane turned pale, even through her former pallor. "You do not understand, sir, how these things are managed, and how impossible it seems for me to stir hand or foot. What credit would be yielded to the statement of a girl who could be proved to have been concerned in at least one case of housebreaking? All I should gain would be the prison for myself; nay, so thoroughly are we beset that I have a misgiving that somehow this, my confession to you is, or very soon will be, known to those who will take no expiation but my life."
This seemed really like bringing back the old vehme gericht of the troubled days of the Empire, with this notable difference, that whereas the old tribunal enforced the rule of right, these desperadoes pursued the enforcement of the wrong. I do not know whether many of the present generation have read Fielding's "Jonathan Wild," or any other particular account of the thief-taking associations of the last century. I have read them, and so was better prepared to take in this situation. I understood that we, in our day of advanced civilisation, and preventive and detective proficiency, have in our midst criminal associations scarcely less malignant than those of which Jonathan Wild was the dominant spirit.
A pretty story it was altogether, enforced by the aspect of that poor girl cowering before me in despair, averting her face and refusing to be comforted. Little had I suspected that anything like this would be the result of my first attempt to play the detective. What on earth I was to do I could not think.
It was necessary, at all events, to call in Mrs. Tomkins, and let her know the result of our tête-à-tête. We must also telegraph to the husband, and amongst us all contrive some plan of safety for Jane. She was evidently in the wildest terror, and felt that her life was no longer safe. Mixed up with this sort of per-