DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.22217#0052
THE MURDERED TAILOR'S WATCH.
me that he might tell all he knew of the watch and chain. He
did not know that I had failed to get the chain, or he might
have risked absolute silence.
" Ye ken, I'm a bit of a fancier of birds," he said, in begin-
ning his story.
"Including watches and chains," I interposed.
" I was oot very early ae Sunday morning, for however late
I'm up on a Saturday, I can never sleep on Sunday morning,"
he continued, with a dutiful grin at my remark. " I gaed doon
by the Abbey Hill to the Easter Road, and when I was hauf
way to Leith I saw a yellow finch flee oot at a dyke where its
nest was, and begin flichering along on the grand to draw me
away frae the place. Cunnin' brutes them birds, but I was fly
for it, and instead o' following it, and believing it couldna flee,
I stoppit and begoud to look for the nest in the dyke. But
before I got forrit I had kind o' lost the exact place. I searched
aboot, wi' the bird watchin' me geyan feared-like a wee bit off,
and at last I found a hole half filled up wi' a loose stane. Oot
cam' the stane, and in gaed my haund ; but instead o' a nest
I fund a gold watch and chain; and that's the God's truth,
though I should dee this meenit."
"Did you mention the finding to any one?"
" No me; I didna even tell my daughter, for I kent if it
was fund oot I might get thirty days for keeping it up. I had
an idea that the watch had been stolen and planted there, or I
might have gaen to a pawnshop wi' it. It was kind o' damaged
wi' lying in the dyke, so at last I made up a story and sellt it
to Maister Burge."
"You are good at making up stories, I think ?" I reflectively
observed.
" I'm thinkin' there's a pair of us, Maister M'Govan," he
readily returned, with a pawky dab at my ribs.
But for his coolness and evident relief at getting the thing
off his mind, I should have set down' the whole as another
fabrication. But when a man begins to smile and joke, it
may be taken for granted that he does not think himself in
immediate danger of being hanged. His story, however,
might have availed him but little had I not chanced to turn
up my notes on the case at its earlier stages, and found there
the hitherto meaningless words muttered by Daniel O'Doyle.
" Starr Road" muttered in sleep might be but a contraction
of Easter Road, or be those actual words imperfectly over-
heard. Then there were the words about something being
me that he might tell all he knew of the watch and chain. He
did not know that I had failed to get the chain, or he might
have risked absolute silence.
" Ye ken, I'm a bit of a fancier of birds," he said, in begin-
ning his story.
"Including watches and chains," I interposed.
" I was oot very early ae Sunday morning, for however late
I'm up on a Saturday, I can never sleep on Sunday morning,"
he continued, with a dutiful grin at my remark. " I gaed doon
by the Abbey Hill to the Easter Road, and when I was hauf
way to Leith I saw a yellow finch flee oot at a dyke where its
nest was, and begin flichering along on the grand to draw me
away frae the place. Cunnin' brutes them birds, but I was fly
for it, and instead o' following it, and believing it couldna flee,
I stoppit and begoud to look for the nest in the dyke. But
before I got forrit I had kind o' lost the exact place. I searched
aboot, wi' the bird watchin' me geyan feared-like a wee bit off,
and at last I found a hole half filled up wi' a loose stane. Oot
cam' the stane, and in gaed my haund ; but instead o' a nest
I fund a gold watch and chain; and that's the God's truth,
though I should dee this meenit."
"Did you mention the finding to any one?"
" No me; I didna even tell my daughter, for I kent if it
was fund oot I might get thirty days for keeping it up. I had
an idea that the watch had been stolen and planted there, or I
might have gaen to a pawnshop wi' it. It was kind o' damaged
wi' lying in the dyke, so at last I made up a story and sellt it
to Maister Burge."
"You are good at making up stories, I think ?" I reflectively
observed.
" I'm thinkin' there's a pair of us, Maister M'Govan," he
readily returned, with a pawky dab at my ribs.
But for his coolness and evident relief at getting the thing
off his mind, I should have set down' the whole as another
fabrication. But when a man begins to smile and joke, it
may be taken for granted that he does not think himself in
immediate danger of being hanged. His story, however,
might have availed him but little had I not chanced to turn
up my notes on the case at its earlier stages, and found there
the hitherto meaningless words muttered by Daniel O'Doyle.
" Starr Road" muttered in sleep might be but a contraction
of Easter Road, or be those actual words imperfectly over-
heard. Then there were the words about something being