“Now,” she said, “troop, troop with you; walk off, walk off,” motioning me towards the outer door, “and be thankful you have got off so cheaply, after swindling me out of my reckoning, and trying to injure the character of my house.”

But too happy at the escape permitted me, I hurried out of the house, next down the stair—­a pretty long one—­at a couple of steps, and rushed into the street.

I will not here detain the reader with any attempt at describing my feelings on this occasion:  he will readily conceive them, on taking into account all the circumstances connected with my unhappy position.  My money gone now, there was no doubt, irretrievably; the market over, no horse bought, the hour late, and I an entire stranger in the city, without a penny in my pocket; my senses confused, and a mortal sickness oppressing me, from the quantity of wine I had drunk, and which, I began to suspect, had been drugged.

Little as I was then conversant with the ways of the town, I knew there was but one quarter where I could apply or hope for any assistance in the recovery of my property.  This was the police office.

Thither I accordingly ran, inquiring my way as I went—­for I knew not where it was—­with wild distraction in my every look and movement.

On reaching the office, I rushed breathlessly into it, and began telling my story as promptly and connectedly as my exhaustion and agitation would permit.  My tale was patiently listened to by the two or three men whom I found on duty in the office.  When I had done, they smiled and shook their heads; expressions which I considered as no good augury of the recovery of my pocket-book.

One of the men—­a sergeant apparently—­now put some minute queries to me regarding the personal appearance of my friend Mr. Lancaster.  I gave him the best description of that gentleman I could; but neither the sergeant nor any of the others seemed to recognise him.  They had no doubt, however, they said, that he was a professed swindler, and in all probability one of late importation into the city; that there was little question that he was the person who had robbed me; adding, what was indeed obvious enough, that he had assisted in the recovery of my pocket-book from the first set of thieves who assailed me, that he might secure it for himself.

The house in the Saltmarket, which I also described as well as I could, they knew at once, saying it was one of the most infamous dens in the city.  The men now promised that they would use every exertion in their power to recover my money, but gave me to understand that there was little or no hope of success.  The event justified their anticipations.  They could discover no trace of Lancaster; and as to the house in the Saltmarket, there was not the slightest evidence of any connection whatever between its mistress, or any other of its inmates, and either the robber or the robbery.  The police indeed searched the house; but of course to no purpose.