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 TRACED AND TRACKED

 OR

 _Memoirs of a City Detective_.

  BY JAMES M^cGOVAN,

  AUTHOR OF “BROUGHT TO BAY,” “HUNTED DOWN,” AND
  “STRANGE CLUES.”

  SEVENTH EDITION.

  EDINBURGH:
  JOHN MENZIES & COMPANY

  LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO.
  1886.

 _All rights reserved._



 _WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

  BROUGHT TO BAY;
  OR,
 _EXPERIENCES OF A CITY DETECTIVE_.
  THIRTEENTH EDITION.

  HUNTED DOWN;
  OR,
 _RECOLLECTIONS OF A CITY DETECTIVE_.
  ELEVENTH EDITION.

  STRANGE CLUES;
  OR,
 _CHRONICLES OF A CITY DETECTIVE_.
  NINTH EDITION.

The above are uniform in size and price with “TRACED AND TRACKED,”
and the four works form the complete set of M^cGovan’s Detective
Experiences.




 To
 JOHN LENG, ESQ.,
 KINBRAE, NEWPORT, FIFE

 This Book
 IS INSCRIBED, IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF HIS
 LOVING-KINDNESS DURING A CRITICAL
 ILLNESS OF THE AUTHOR.




PREFACE.


The gratifying success of my former experiences—25,000 copies having
already been sold, and the demand steadily continuing—has induced
me to put forth another volume. In doing so, I have again to thank
numerous correspondents, as well as the reviewers of the public
press, for their warm expressions of appreciation and approval.
I have also to notice a graceful compliment from Berlin, in the
translation of my works into German, by H. Ernst Duby; and another
from Geneva, in the translation of a selection of my sketches into
French, by the Countess Agènor de Gasparin.

A severe and unexpected attack of hæmorrhage of the lungs has
prevented me revising about a third of the present volume. I trust,
therefore, that any trifling slips or errors will be excused on that
account.

In conclusion, I would remind readers and reviewers of the words
of Handel, when he was complimented by an Irish nobleman on having
amused the citizens of Dublin with his _Messiah_. “Amuse dem?” he
warmly replied; “I do not vant to amuse dem only; I vant to make dem
petter.”

 JAMES M^cGOVAN.

 EDINBURGH, _October 1884_.




CONTENTS.


 A PEDESTRIAN’S PLOT, • 1

 BILLY’S BITE, • 13

 THE MURDERED TAILOR’S WATCH, • 24

 THE STREET PORTER’S SON, • 44

 A BIT OF TOBACCO PIPE, • 57

 THE BROKEN CAIRNGORM, • 68

 THE ROMANCE OF A REAL CREMONA, • 79

 THE SPIDER AND THE SPIDER-KILLER, • 104

 THE SPOILT PHOTOGRAPH, • 115

 THE STOLEN DOWRY, • 127

 M^cSWEENY AND THE MAGIC JEWELS, • 139

 BENJIE BLUNT’S CLEVER ALIBI, • 150

 JIM HUTSON’S KNIFE, • 161

 THE HERRING SCALES, • 174

 ONE LESS TO EAT, • 185

 THE CAPTAIN’S CHRONOMETER, • 196

 THE TORN TARTAN SHAWL, • 207

 A LIFT ON THE ROAD, • 218

 THE ORGAN-GRINDER’S MONEY-BAG, • 229

 THE BERWICK BURR, • 240

 THE WRONG UMBRELLA, • 252

 A WHITE SAVAGE, • 263

 THE BROKEN MISSIONARY, • 274

 A MURDERER’S MISTAKE, • 285

 A HOUSE-BREAKER’S WIFE, • 297

 M^cSWEENY AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP, • 308

 THE FAMILY BIBLE, • 320

 CONSCIENCE MONEY, • 332

 A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING, • 343




TRACED AND TRACKED.




A PEDESTRIAN’S PLOT.


I have alluded to the fact that many criminals affect a particular
line of business, and show a certain style in their work which often
points unerringly to the doer when all other clues are wanting. A
glance over any record of convictions will convey a good idea of how
much reliance we are led to place upon this curious fact. One man’s
list will show a string of pocket-picking cases, or attempts in that
line, and it will be rare, indeed, to find in that record a case of
robbery with violence, housebreaking, or any crime necessitating
great daring or strength. Another shows nothing but deeds of brute
strength or bull-dog ferocity, and to find in his record of _prev.
con._ a case of delicate pocket-picking would make any one of
experience open his eyes wide indeed. The style of the work is even
a surer guide than the particular line, as the variety there is
unlimited as it is marked. This is all very well; and often I have
been complimented on my astuteness in thus making very simple and
natural deductions leading to convictions. But the pleasure ceases
to be unmixed when the criminal is as cunning as the detective, and
works upon that knowledge. To show how a detective may be deceived in
working on this—one of his surest modes of tracing a criminal—I give
the present case.

Dave Larkins was a Yorkshire thief, who had drifted northwards by
some chance and landed in Edinburgh. Street robbery was his line,
and, as he was a professional pedestrian, or racing man, he was not
caught, I should say, once in twenty cases. The list of his previous
convictions in Manchester, Liverpool, Preston, and other places
showed with unvarying monotony the same crime and the same style of
working. He would go up to some gentleman on the street and make an
excuse for addressing him, snatch at his watch, and run for it. More
often the victim was a lady with a reticule or purse in her hand, and
then no preliminary speaking was indulged in. He made the snatch,
and ran like the wind, and the whole was done so quickly that the
astounded victim seldom retained the slightest recollection of his
appearance.

Yet Dave’s appearance was striking enough. He was a wiry man of
medium height, with strongly-marked features, red hair, and a stumpy
little turned up nose, the round point of which was always red as a
cherry with bad whisky, except at those rare intervals when he was
“in training” for some foot race which it was to his advantage to win.

Then his dress had notable points. He generally wore a knitted jersey
in place of a waistcoat, and he had a grey felt hat covered with
grease spots, for which he had such a peculiar affection that he
never changed it for a new one. Under these circumstances it may be
thought that a conviction would have been easily got against Dave.
But Dave was “Yorkshire,” as I have indicated, and about as smart
and cunning in arranging an _alibi_ as any I ever met. No doubt his
racing powers helped him in that, but his native cunning did more.

There is a popular impression that a Yorkshire man will hold his
own in cunning against all the world, but I have here to record
that Dave met his match in a Scotchman who had nothing like Dave’s
reputation for smartness, and who was so stupid-looking that few
could have conceived him capable of the task. This man was known in
racing circles—for he was a pedestrian too—as Jake Mackay, but more
generally received the nickname of “The Gander.”

Why he had been so named I cannot tell—perhaps because some one
had discovered that there was nothing of the goose about him. Your
stupid-looking man, who is not stupid but supremely sharp-witted, has
an infinite advantage over those who carry a needle eye like Dave
Larkins, and have cunning printed on every line about their lips and
eyes.

The Gander was not a professional thief, though he was often in the
company of thieves. He had been in the army, and had a pension, which
he eked out by odd jobs, such as bill-posting and acting as “super.”
in the theatres. He was a thorough rascal at heart, and would have
cheated his own grandfather had opportunity served, and had there
been a shilling or two to gain by it.

These two men became acquainted at a pedestrian meeting at Glasgow,
and when Dave Larkins came to Edinburgh they became rather close
companions. The Gander had the advantage of local knowledge, and
could get at all the men who backed pedestrians, and then told them
to win or lose according to the way the money was staked. A racing
tournament was arranged about that time in which both of them were
entered for one of the shorter races, in which great speed, rather
than endurance, was called for. In that particular race they had the
result entirely in their own hands, though, if fairly put to it,
Dave Larkins, or “Yorky” as he was named,