intended him for a runner. He might smash a jeweller's window, pick a pocket, or snatch a handbag; but in all these adventures fleetness of foot seemed essential. 

 Crime seemed obviously for the sprinter. To become a burger required experience and tools, and Bindle possessed neither. Besides, burgling involved more risks than he cared to take. 

 Had he paused to think, Bindle would have seen that stealing was crime; but his incurable love of adventure blinded him to all else. 

 "Funny thing," he mumbled as he walked down Fenton Street.  "Funny thing, a daughter o' the Lord wantin' me to steal. Wonder wot ole 'Earty 'ud say." 

 

 

 CHAPTER II 

 A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 

 

 I 

 Having exchanged the clock for seven shillings and badly beaten the pawnbroker's assistant in a verbal duel, Bindle strolled along towards Walham Green in the happiest frame of mind. 

 The night was young, it was barely nine o'clock, and his whole being yearned for some adventure. He was still preoccupied with the subject of larceny. His wits, Bindle argued, were of little or no use in the furniture-removing business, where mediocrity formed the standard of excellence. There would never be a Napoleon of furniture-removers, but there had been several Napoleons of crime. If a man were endowed with genius, he should also be supplied with a reasonable outlet for it. 

 Walking meditatively along the North End Road, he was awakened to realities by his foot suddenly striking against something that jingled. He stooped and picked up two keys attached to a ring, which he swiftly transferred to one of his pockets and passed on. Someone might be watching him. 

 Two minutes later he drew forth his find for examination. Attached to the ring was a metal tablet, upon which were engraved the words: "These keys are the property of Professor 

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