He said to her: "I wonder if you saw what I saw?”

"And what was that?" she asked, trying to force a note of unconcern into her voice.

"The little fracas at the table near us. Did you see it? Did you hear it?”

"It would have been impossible not to and we so near.”

"Her purse was stolen. Did you see by whom?”

"If I had," she said defiantly, "I should have called stop thief! I should not have sat by and watched the thief make off with the lady's purse!”

"We saw the thief," said Jonathan slowly, 'but we did not actually see the theft. They are clever, those rogues, and sleight of hand is the first lesson they learn.”

Carolan shrugged her shoulders.

"An incident that must happen time and time again in such a place as this.”

"Indeed you are right, but this particular incident would interest us more, since ... we are aware of the identity of the thief.”

Carolan was too guileless to hide her dismay.

He said: "May I speak to you frankly?”

"Of course.”

"We recognized him, did we not? He is the man who stole your handkerchief. He has called on you since; I have seen him, leaving your house. Your mother has mentioned him to me; he is, she says, a friend of your father's. Now we have discovered that he is a rogue, a common thief.”

"I am not at all sure ..." began Carolan, but he interrupted her.

"Come. Let us be frank with each other; we have to be, if we are to help him. You recognized him, did you not? I knew him at once. Do you not understand that when I discovered he was visiting your house, I felt I had to know something of him? There have been other times when I have seen him.”

Carolan shivered. There was a burning self-righteousness about Jonathan now; a certain fire was creeping into his words; he moved nearer to her.

"Do not think," he said, 'that I wish to condemn him. I wish to stop his career of crime; do you understand? I was wondering ... Could you speak to him? Your mother has told me that he sets a certain store by you...”

"Oh!" cried Carolan angrily.

"Is there anything my mother has not told you!”

He smiled.

"She has a nature that is scarcely secretive. Listen, dear young lady.

Could you plead with him? Could you make him see that to pursue a life of crime means the gallows or transportation? I think he may listen to you, whereas he would not to others.”

Now she was sorry that she had been angry with Jonathan, when all he wished to do was to help Marcus. Marcus was a lovable fool; but Jonathan was a wise, good man.

"Speak to him," went on Jonathan.

"Perhaps he has some good reason for behaving as he does. Perhaps he was led into temptation and finds it difficult to extricate himself.

Ask him. Try to understand, for it is only by understanding that you can help him.”

"You talk like a preacher.”

"I wish to help the friends of my friends.”

"You are very good. I will think about it ... Perhaps I will speak to him.”

He pressed her hand; his fingers were cold, and yet they seemed to tingle. He was a very good man, she thought, to feel so deeply for poor, foolish Marcus.

She was remembering it all so vividly as she sat, looking down on the street, that when Marcus appeared suddenly she felt for a second or two that he was part of her imaginings.

She stared down at him. He was strolling along the street, as though well pleased with himself. He had changed his elegant clothes for coat and breeches of worsted. How he angered her! The complacent fool! No doubt he was congratulating himself on a fine haul. Angrily she got to her feet. She would speak to him; she would tell him that he was a fool a ridiculous fool -nay, a criminal and a rogue, and she and her family had done with him.

She sped downstairs. There was no one in the parlour. Her mother had retired to bed; her father was probably working down in the basement and would not hear him. She was glad of that.

She opened the front door, and Marcus was standing there.

"Why... Miss Carolan!" he said.

"Indeed, yes!" she spoke severely.

"Pray come in. I would have a word with you.”

He looked alarmed.

"I trust I have not offended you.”

"Offended me! That is a mild way of expressing it.”

"You alarm me.”

"You should be alarmed! Speak quietly; I do not wish my father to hear. He would not have you in this house if he knew ..." She drew herself up to her full height she was almost as tall as he was and her eyes flashed in scorn.

"We have just returned from Vauxhall.”

"I trust you spent a pleasant time there.”

"A most pleasant time, until one incident spoiled the whole day for me!”

"I am sorry to hear that.”

She noticed with a grim satisfaction that he was shaken.

"And well you may be. Please lower your voice. Come over here behind these old clothes; they will muffle our voices.”

"It is you who are speaking loudly, Miss Carolan!" He smiled at her tenderly.

"My dear, how upset you are!”

"Upset!" She was finding it difficult to keep back the tears.

"I was sitting near a masked lady who lost her purse.”

"But why should you care so deeply for a masked lady's loss?”

"I saw you. Oh! You were elegant, a young gentleman of fashion, but I saw through your disguise! All the fine coats in the world would not deceive me into thinking you were anything but a thief! If my father knew, he would never allow you to set foot inside this house again.”

He stared down at his hands. He was guilty but unrepentant, disturbed only because he had been found out.

"You are a fool, Marcus," she hissed at him.

"Well I know it, Carolan.”

"Where do you think this life is leading you?"

 "Well, can any of us see the end of the road we are treading?”

"One day I shall retire from this life. Then I shall be a rich man, and the only way to be a safe man is to be a rich man. Did you know that, Carolan?”

"I know that the way to be unsafe is the way you are going, Marcus! I would not have believed it of you. Had you told me you had not taken the purse, I should have believed you.”

"But you said you saw!”

"I did not see you take it.”

"You did not see me take it!" There was relief in his eyes.

"I was afraid my hands had lost their cunning.”

She looked down at his long white hands.

"It is a pity you do not put them to a better purpose.”

"Carolan, do you despise me now?”

"I am deeply disappointed in you.”

"That is a pity. I had my dreams.”

"Dreams? What dreams?”

"Of the days of my safety... But what matter?”

She clasped her hands.

"Oh, Marcus, must you do these things?”

"I live by them, Carolan.”

"You live by robbery?”

"I have tried other methods.”

She pictured Everard's face then, cool, a little stern; she could hear his calm voice.

"A man's life," she said, quoting him, 'is surely what he makes it?”

"He has a hand in shaping his destiny certainly.”

"Well then...?”

"There are other considerations. There are people who are born in mansions; there are people born in Grape Street. It is not easy to be an honest man in Grape Street, Carolan.”

There was banter in his eyes, but they had lost some of their merriment.

"Carolan," he said, coming closer to her, "I would like to tell you what I have told no one else. Will you listen to me?”

"Of course.”

"I want to give you a brief outline of my life. I am wicked; I am a criminal; I am unworthy to be called your friend. That is the truth, but I would have you know how it is I have sunk so low. Perhaps, later on when I am a rich, safe man, I shall call upon you and your husband in your happy home. I should like to do that, Carolan. I should like to see if you are happy. The parson will accept me because he will not know the secrets of my past, and his wife will accept me because, I hope, she will understand why I took to such evil ways. That will warm my heart, Carolan, if she will understand.”

Carolan was silent, her heart beating rapidly. She was realizing now how fervently she had hoped he would deny all knowledge of the purse.

"I must make it brief, Carolan. But you must understand that I cannot convey everything in the short time I have. You must see beyond my words. You must visualize a happy childhood; you must see everything that was mine. A good home, tender parents, an excellent education ... right up to the time I was fourteen. Then my father died. My mother was a dear woman, a tender woman, but an unwise woman. A year after my father's death, she sought to replace him. My stepfather? Ah! What stories I could tell you of that man. But I waste my words. Suffice it that, in less than a year after that disastrous marriage, my mother was dead. Her money was his; I had nothing. He had arranged it so.

Sometimes I think he arranged her death. That sounds melodramatic, Carolan, but it is nevertheless true. I was alone; I was penniless. I stole some money from my stepfather and came to London. What dreams I had. You can well imagine what they were. I would make a fortune at the gaming-table, for were there not fortunes to be made in London! I will not harass you with my adventures; perhaps one day, in the secure, rich times ahead I may tell you. I will not tell you how I sank and sank. There is a life here in this great city of which I hope you will never know. I shall not tell you. Have you ever heard of a thieves' kitchen, Carolan? It is a place... they abound here... where one is taught to pick pockets. These hands of mine -sensitive, are they not?