any chance passers-by who might stray into the Black Cottage.

This was not an easy matter to compass in a poor house like ours,
where we had nothing valuable to put under lock and key. After
running over various hiding-places in my mind, I thought of my
tea-caddy, a present from Mrs. Knifton, which I always kept out
of harm's way in my own bedroom. Most unluckily--as it afterward
turned out--instead of taking the pocketbook to the tea-caddy, I
went into my room first to take the tea-caddy to the pocketbook.
I only acted in this roundabout way from sheer thoughtlessness,
and severely enough I was punished for it, as you will
acknowledge yourself when you have read a page or two more of my
story.

I was just getting the unlucky tea-caddy out of my cupboard, when
I heard footsteps in the passage, and, running out immediately,
saw two men walk into the kitchen--the room in which I had
received Mr. and Mrs. Knifton. I inquired what they wanted
sharply enough, and one of them answered immediately that they
wanted my father. He turned toward me, of course, as he spoke,
and I recognized him as a stone-mason, going among his comrades
by the name of Shifty Dick. He bore a very bad character for
everything but wrestling, a sport for which the working men of
our parts were famous all through the county. Shifty Dick was
champion, and he had got his name from some tricks of wrestling,
for which he was celebrated. He was a tall, heavy man, with a
lowering, scarred face, and huge hairy hands--the last visitor in
the whole world that I should have been glad to see under any
circumstances. His companion was a stranger, whom he addressed by
the name of Jerry--a quick, dapper, wicked-looking man, who took