The　uncommercial　transaction　which　had　brought　me　and　Jack
  together；　was　this：…　I　had　entered　the　Liverpool　police　force；　that
  I　might　have　a　look　at　the　various　unlawful　traps　which　are　every
  night　set　for　Jack。　　As　my　term　of　service　in　that　distinguished
  corps　was　short；　and　as　my　personal　bias　in　the　capacity　of　one　of
  its　members　has　ceased；　no　suspicion　will　attach　to　my　evidence
  that　it　is　an　admirable　force。　　Besides　that　it　is　composed；
  without　favour；　of　the　best　men　that　can　be　picked；　it　is　directed
  by　an　unusual　intelligence。　　Its　organisation　against　Fires；　I　take
  to　be　much　better　than　the　metropolitan　system；　and　in　all　respects
  it　tempers　its　remarkable　vigilance　with　a　still　more　remarkable
  discretion。
  Jack　had　knocked　off　work　in　the　docks　some　hours；　and　I　had　taken；
  for　purposes　of　identification；　a　photograph…likeness　of　a　thief；
  in　the　portrait…room　at　our　head　police　office　（on　the　whole；　he
  seemed　rather　complimented　by　the　proceeding）；　and　I　had　been　on
  police　parade；　and　the　small　hand　of　the　clock　was　moving　on　to
  ten；　when　I　took　up　my　lantern　to　follow　Mr。　Superintendent　to　the
  traps　that　were　set　for　Jack。　　In　Mr。　Superintendent　I　saw；　as
  anybody　might；　a　tall；　well…looking；　well…set…up　man　of　a　soldierly
  bearing；　with　a　cavalry　air；　a　good　chest；　and　a　resolute　but　not
  by　any　means　ungentle　face。　　He　carried　in　his　hand　a　plain　black
  walking…stick　of　hard　wood；　and　whenever　and　wherever；　at　any
  after…time　of　the　night；　he　struck　it　on　the　pavement　with　a
  ringing　sound；　it　instantly　produced　a　whistle　out　of　the　darkness；
  and　a　policeman。　　To　this　remarkable　stick；　I　refer　an　air　of
  mystery　and　magic　which　pervaded　the　whole　of　my　perquisition　among
  the　traps　that　were　set　for　Jack。
  We　began　by　diving　into　the　obscurest　streets　and　lanes　of　the
  port。　　Suddenly　pausing　in　a　flow　of　cheerful　discourse；　before　a
  dead　wall；　apparently　some　ten　miles　long；　Mr。　Superintendent
  struck　upon　the　ground；　and　the　wall　opened　and　shot　out；　with
  military　salute　of　hand　to　temple；　two　policemen　…　not　in　the　least
  surprised　themselves；　not　in　the　least　surprising　Mr。
  Superintendent。
  'All　right；　Sharpeye？'
  'All　right；　sir。'
  'All　right；　Trampfoot？'
  'All　right；　sir。'
  'Is　Quickear　there？'
  'Here　am　I；　sir。'
  'Come　with　us。'
  'Yes；　sir。'
  So；　Sharpeye　went　before；　and　Mr。　Superintendent　and　I　went　next；
  and　Trampfoot　and　Quickear　marched　as　rear…guard。　　Sharp…eye；　I
  soon　had　occasion　to　remark；　had　a　skilful　and　quite　professional
  way　of　opening　doors　…　touched　latches　delicately；　as　if　they　were
  keys　of　musical　instruments　…　opened　every　door　he　touched；　as　if
  he　were　perfectly　confident　that　there　was　stolen　property　behind
  it　…　instantly　insinuated　himself；　to　prevent　its　being　shut。
  Sharpeye　opened　several　doors　of　traps　that　were　set　for　Jack；　but
  Jack　did　not　happen　to　be　in　any　of　them。　　They　were　all　such
  miserable　places　that　really；　Jack；　if　I　were　you；　I　would　give
  them　a　wider　berth。　　In　every　trap；　somebody　was　sitting　over　a
  fire；　waiting　for　Jack。　　Now；　it　was　a　crouching　old　woman；　like
  the　picture　of　the　Norwood　Gipsy　in　the　old　sixpenny　dream…books；
  now；　it　was　a　crimp　of　the　male　sex；　in　a　checked　shirt　and　without
  a　coat；　reading　a　newspaper；　now；　it　was　a　man　crimp　and　a　woman
  crimp；　who　always　introduced　themselves　as　united　in　holy
  matrimony；　now；　it　was　Jack's　delight；　his　（un）lovely　Nan；　but　they
  were　all　waiting　for　Jack；　and　were　all　frightfully　disappointed　to
  see　us。
  'Who　have　you　got　up…stairs　here？'　says　Sharpeye；　generally。　　（In
  the　Move…on　tone。）
  'Nobody；　surr；　sure　not　a　blessed　sowl！'　　（Irish　feminine　reply。）
  'What　do　you　mean　by　nobody？　　Didn't　I　hear　a　woman's　step　go　up…
  stairs　when　my　hand　was　on　the　latch？'
  'Ah！　sure　thin　you're　right；　surr；　I　forgot　her！　　'Tis　on'y　Betsy
  White；　surr。　　Ah！　you　know　Betsy；　surr。　　Come　down；　Betsy　darlin'；
  and　say　the　gintlemin。'
  Generally；　Betsy　looks　over　the　banisters　（the　steep　staircase　is
  in　the　room）　with　a　forcible　expression　in　her　protesting　face；　of
  an　intention　to　compensate　herself　for　the　present　trial　by
  grinding　Jack　finer　than　usual　when　he　does　come。　　Generally；
  Sharpeye　turns　to　Mr。　Superintendent；　and　says；　as　if　the　subjects
  of　his　remarks　were　wax…work：
  'One　of　the　worst；　sir；　this　house　is。　　This　woman　has　been
  indicted　three　times。　　This　man's　a　regular　bad　one　likewise。　　His
  real　name　is　Pegg。　　Gives　himself　out　as　Waterhouse。'
  'Never　had　sitch　a　name　as　Pegg　near　me　back；　thin；　since　I　was　in
  this　house；　bee　the　good　Lard！'　says　the　woman。
  Generally；　the　man　says　nothing　at　all；　but　becomes　exceedingly
  round…shouldered；　and　pretends　to　read　his　paper　with　rapt
  attention。　　Generally；　Sharpeye　directs　our　observation　with　a
  look；　to　the　prints　and　pictures　that　are　invariably　numerous　on
  the　walls。　　Always；　Trampfoot　and　Quickear　are　taking　notice　on　the
  doorstep。　　In　default　of　Sharpeye　being　acquainted　with　the　exact
  individuality　of　any　gentleman　encountered；　one　of　these　two　is
  sure　to　proclaim　from　the　outer　air；　like　a　gruff　spectre；　that
  Jackson　is　not　Jackson；　but　knows　himself　to　be　Fogle；　or　that
  Canlon　is　Walker's　brother；　against　whom　there　was　not　sufficient
  evidence；　or　that　the　man　who　says　he　never　was　at　sea　since　he　was
  a　boy；　came　ashore　from　a　voyage　last　Thursday；　or　sails　tomorrow
  morning。　　'And　that　is　a　bad　class　of　man；　you　see；'　says　Mr。
  Superintendent；　when　he　got　out　into　the　dark　again；　'and　very
  difficult　to　deal　with；　who；　when　he　has　made　this　place　too　hot　to
  hold　him；　enters　himself　for　a　voyage　as　steward　or　cook；　and　is
  out　of　knowledge　for　months；　and　then　turns　up　again　worse　than
  ever。'
  When　we　had　gone　into　many　such　houses；　and　had　come　out　（always
  leaving　everybody　relapsing　into　waiting　for　Jack）；　we　started　off
  to　a　singing…house　where　Jack　was　expected　to　muster　strong。
  The　vocalisation　was　taking　place　in　a　long　low　room　up…stairs；　at
  one　end；　an　orchestra　of　two　performers；　and　a　small　platform；
  across　the　room；　a　series　of　open　pews　for　Jack；　with　an　aisle　down
  the　middle；　at　the　other　end　a　larger　pew　than　the　rest；　entitled
  SNUG；　and　reserved　for　mates　and　similar　good　company。　　About　the
  room；　some　amazing　coffee…coloured　pictures　varnished　an　inch　deep；
  and　some　stuffed　creatures　in　cases；　dotted　among　the　audience；　in
  Sung　and　out　of　Snug；　the　'Professionals；'　among　them；　the
  celebrated　comic　favourite　Mr。　Banjo　Bones；　looking　very　hideous
  with　his　blackened　face　and　limp　sugar…loaf　hat；　beside　him；
  sipping　rum…and…water；　Mrs。　Banjo　Bones；　in　her　natural　colours　…　a
  little　heightened。
  It　was　a　Friday　night；　and　Friday　night　was　considered　not　a　good
  night　for　Jack。　　At　any　rate；　Jack　did　not　show　in　very　great　force
  even　here；　though　the　house　was　one　to　which　he　much　resorts；　and
  where　a　good　deal　of　money　is　taken。　　There　was　British　Jack；　a
  little　maudlin　and　sleepy；　lolling　over　his　empty　glass；　as　if　he
  were　trying　to　read　his　fortune　at　the　bottom；　there　was　Loafing
  Jack　of　the　Stars　and　Stripes；　rather　an　unpromising　customer；　with
  his　long　nose；　lank　cheek；　high　cheek…bones；　and　nothing　soft　about
  him　but　his　cabbage…leaf　hat；　there　was　Spanish　Jack；　with　curls　of
  black　hair；　rings　in　his　ears；　and　a　knife　not　far　from　his　hand；
  if　you　got　into　trouble　with　him；　there　were　Maltese　Jack；　and　Jack
  of　Sweden；　and　Jack　the　Finn；　looming　through　the　smoke　of　their
  pipes；　and　turning　faces　that　looked　as　if　they　were　carved　out　of
  dark　wood；　towards　the　young　lady　dancing　the　hornpipe：　　who　found
  the　platform　so　exceedingly　small　for　it；　that　I　had　a　nervous
  expectation　of　seeing　her；　in　the　backward　steps；　disappear　through
  the　window。　　Still；　if　all　hands　had　been　got　together；　they　would
  not　have　more　than　half…filled　the　room。　　Observe；　however；　said
  Mr。　Licensed　Victualler；　the　host；　that　it　was　Friday　night；　and；
  besides；　it　was　getting　on　for　twelve；　and　Jack　had　gone　aboard。　　A
  sharp　and　watchful　man；　Mr。　Licensed　Victualler；　the　host；　with
  tight　lips　and　a　complete　edition　of　Cocker's　arithmetic　in　each
  eye。　　Attended　to　his　business　himself；　he　said。　　Always　on　the
  spot。　　When　he　heard　of　talent；　trusted　nobody's　account　of　it；　but
  went　off　by　rail　to　see　it。　　If　true　talent；　engaged　it。　　Pounds　a
  week　for　talent　…　four　pound　…　five　pound。　　Banjo　Bones　was
  undoubted　talent。　　Hear　this　instrument　that　was　going　to　play　…　it
  was　real　talent！　　In　truth　it　was　very　good；　a　kind　of　piano…
  accordion；　played　by　a　young　girl　of　a　delicate　prettiness　of　face；
  figure；　and　dress；　that　made　the　audience　look　coarser。　　She　sang
  to　the　instrument；　too；　first；　a　song　about　village　bells；　and　how
  they　chimed；　then　a　song　about　how　I　went　to　sea；　winding　up　with
  an　imitation　of　the　bagpipes；　which　Mercantile　Jack　seemed　to
  understand　much　the　best。　　A　good　girl；