Part 4

In pursuance of this arrangement, Ainslie left first for the scene of action in Chessel’s Court, carrying with him the coulter, and, having taken up his position within the “palisadoes,” saw the porter come out with a light and lock the outer door behind him. Shortly thereafter Smith arrived. On hearing that the coast was clear, he lost no time in opening the front door with his false key and went into the office. He was followed five minutes later by Deacon Brodie, who, learning that Smith was within, but that Brown had not yet put in an appearance, went back up the court to look for him. They met in the entry and returned together, Brown explaining that, on his arrival, he had seen the old man who usually locked up the office leaving the court, and had dogged him home as a precautionary measure. Brown then inquired of Ainslie “whether or not he had ‘Great Samuel’?”--by which playful appellation he referred to the coulter--and Ainslie handed it to him through the railings. The Deacon and Brown then entered the office, leaving the outer door on the latch, behind which the former ensconced himself.

Smith had meanwhile opened the spring catch of the inner door with a pair of curling irons or “toupee tongs” which he had prepared for that purpose, and was awaiting Brown in the hall. By means of the coulter and an iron crow--“Little Samuel,” in Brown’s humorous phraseology--the two burglars at length succeeded in forcing the door of the cashier’s room, and by the light of the Deacon’s lantern they proceeded to prize open every desk and press which it contained. In the cashier’s desk they found and appropriated two five-pound notes, six guinea notes, and some odd silver; but after half-an-hour’s diligent searching their utmost efforts failed to discover the accumulated riches which they had confidently expected to secure.

In the hurry of the search, by a curious chance, a secret drawer, concealed beneath the cashier’s desk, containing no less than £600 sterling, escaped their notice.

Unwilling to accept their defeat, the two men were ransacking the desks afresh when they heard the front door open, but, supposing Brodie to be at his post, paid no attention. They were about to leave the room to prosecute their investigation of the premises when they heard some one come hastily down the stairs, “which made them stop or they must have met him.” Upon this Brown whispered, “Here must be treachery; get out your pistols and cock them!” They then heard the front door close with a crash. Perceiving that something was wrong, they now hastened into the hall, when, to their amazement, they found that the Deacon had vanished, and, on opening the door, that Ainslie also had disappeared. Cursing their ill luck and the defection of their companions, the puzzled burglars hurried through the court into the Canongate; and, quite at sea as to what had happened, made the best of their way to Smith’s house, leaving behind them in the office the heavy coulter and the spur which was designed to mislead the discoverers of the robbery.

We must now return to Ainslie, whom we left on the watch behind the railings. A servant girl, returning from a message to her master’s house in the court, saw him looking over the wall, and, “judging him to be a light or suspicious person”--in which diagnosis she was not far wrong--sought safety within doors. He had not been long at his post when the silence of the court was broken by the sound of a man running into it from the street, and Ainslie, peering through the railings, was alarmed to see him go in at the open door of the Excise Office. At the very moment of his entrance another man rushed from the doorway and fled at full speed up the court; and before Ainslie could recover from his surprise at this unlooked-for situation, a third man, as he supposed, came immediately out of the office and also disappeared towards the Canongate after the other.

The scanty oil lamps with which in those days the city was “illuminated” after nightfall served but as feeble foils to the surrounding darkness, and to Ainslie, in the dimly-lighted court, friend and foe were equally indistinguishable. These mysterious and unlooked-for doings proved too much for the watcher’s nerve; so, having hastily given the agreed-on signal of retreat by three blasts upon his whistle, he, too, made for the entry, and, turning down St. John’s Street, came through the gardens of the Canongate to the back of the Excise Office. Finding no trace of his associates there, Ainslie in his turn repaired to Smith’s.

The explanation of these occurrences, which had dispersed the gang in bewilderment and consternation, was singularly simple, but the issue might have been very different. Mr. James Bonar, Deputy Solicitor of Excise, had returned to the office about half-past eight o’clock to get certain papers which he had left in his room. Finding the outer door on the latch, he assumed that some of the clerks were still in the building, and was entering the office when the Deacon, who appears to have lost his usual presence of mind, bounced out from behind the door, and, brushing past him, fled hastily from the court. Mr. Bonar attached no importance to this incident, thinking the person belonged to the office, and, being pressed for time, ran upstairs to his own room, got what he wanted, and hastened from the building, slamming the outer door after him.

If Ainslie had not lost his head at the sudden entrance and exit of the Solicitor and the Deacon, but had blown his whistle, as he should have done, whenever the former appeared, Smith and Brown, rushing out with their pistols cocked, would have encountered Mr. Bonar in the lobby, and murder would doubtless have been done. As it was, that gentleman probably owed his life to the pusillanimity of Ainslie and Brodie, the latter of whom could, from his ambush, easily have closed with him as he entered the hall.

After his undignified flight from the Excise Office, Deacon Brodie reached his own house about nine o’clock, where he once more changed his attire, putting on the fine white suit he usually wore. He then hurried to the house of his mistress, Jean Watt, in Libberton’s Wynd, where he remained till the following morning. Meanwhile, at Smith’s house the other three were discussing the disappointing result of the night’s expedition and indulging in mutual recriminations. The non-appearance of Brodie added to their uncertainty, and they parted for the night in no amiable mood, Ainslie and Brown going over to the New Town, where, in a tavern kept by one Fraser, they sought consolation in a bowl of punch. The next day--Thursday--the Deacon came to Brown and Ainslie’s lodging in Burnet’s Close and laughingly told them that Smith had accused him of deserting his post the previous night. He was received but sourly by Brown, who made no secret of sharing Smith’s opinion. These, however, were minor matters, the vital question being whether or not suspicion would be directed to themselves. It was arranged that they should all meet at Smith’s the following night, when the sixteen pounds--miserable recompense of so much risk and labour!--was to be equally divided among them.

Accordingly, upon the Friday evening, in the upper room of Smith’s house, each man received his share, amounting to a little over four pounds. Ainslie, to whom Brodie owed a “debt of honour,” took occasion to require payment, and got one of the five-pound notes and some gold from him. The Deacon, who had staked infinitely more, thus made less than any of them by the adventure. Brown, so soon as he had received his share, went out, like Judas, and for a similar purpose.

The reader may remember the two trunks in which the silks stolen from Inglis & Horner’s shop were packed with a view to transmission to John Tasker at Chesterfield. One of these had been despatched some time before by the Berwick carrier, the other had been forwarded that week by the Newcastle waggoner, and Smith’s wife was to leave for England on the Saturday in order to treat personally with the proprietor of the “Bird in Hand,” who was probably a difficult customer to deal with. Smith and Ainslie therefore proceeded to the New Town, where, at the inn kept by William Drysdale, they purchased a ticket for Mrs. Smith by the mail-coach to Newcastle on the following day. The five-pound note was tendered in payment, and they received the change, less the price of the ticket.

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Let us now see how prudent Mr. Brown had been improving his time. Daily since the 25th of January there had appeared in each of the three Edinburgh newspapers advertisements offering £150 reward and a free pardon to whoever should disclose the robbers of Inglis & Horner’s shop. The excitement occasioned by that crime had been revived and increased tenfold by the discovery of the attack upon the Excise Office, which was made by ten o’clock on the night of its occurrence, and the vigilance of the authorities was proportionally augmented.

Brown stood in a more ticklish situation towards the outraged majesty of the law than any of his companions, for over him hung the sentence of transportation, which he had hitherto successfully evaded; and it would go hard with him if he fell into the hands of justice in connection with any of his later villainies, which might happen at any moment. He was, moreover, profoundly disgusted with the manner in which the Excise business had miscarried through no fault of his own, and would not be sorry to steal a march on his cowardly associates. He was also cunning enough to foresee that, if he turned informer, he would not only earn a handsome reward, but enjoy immunity for his past performances, as it would be necessary for the public prosecutor to obtain a pardon for his old offence also, before his evidence could be made available against his fellow-criminals.

Having carefully considered his position, therefore, and immediately after securing his dividend at Smith’s, Brown proceeded to William Middleton, of the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office, and informed him that he had certain discoveries to make concerning the robberies recently committed in the city. Late as it then was--eleven o’clock--Middleton at once took Brown to the Procurator-Fiscal, to whom he told the whole story, suppressing, however, in the meantime, all mention of Deacon Brodie’s name in connection with the crimes. His object in taking this course was doubtless to secure a hold upon the Deacon which would enable him, at his leisure, to blackmail that respectable gentleman with impunity. At his own request the Procurator-Fiscal and Middleton went with him that same night to Salisbury Crags, where Brown pointed out a number of false keys underneath a stone, hidden there by Smith after the affair at the Excise Office, of which the Fiscal took possession.

The next morning, Saturday, 8th March, Brown, accompanied by Middleton, left for Chesterfield in pursuit of Inglis & Horner’s goods by the very coach in which Mrs. Smith was to have performed the same journey. How they fared upon their errand is not recorded, but it would have been interesting to know what happened when John Tasker’s unexpected guests dropped in at the “Bird in Hand.”

The same day Ainslie, Smith, and his wife, and servant-maid were apprehended; and, having been examined before the Sheriff, were committed to the Tolbooth, the two women being subsequently set at liberty.

That Saturday evening the rumour of the prisoners’ arrest spread like wildfire through the city, and on Deacon Brodie, confident in his fool’s paradise, the intelligence must have fallen like a thunderbolt. Apart from his temporary loss of nerve at the Excise Office, he was undoubtedly a man of courage and resource, and the step he now determined to take might well have daunted a less intrepid character. This was to visit the Tolbooth in person and obtain speech with Smith and Ainslie, so as to induce them, if it were not too late, to hold their tongues. To do this, knowing nothing of where he stood or how much had come out, was to put his head into the lion’s mouth; but he saw that, at all costs, he must ascertain what had happened. Accordingly, having taken his cane and cocked hat, the Deacon, with that “particular air” which characterised his walk, sallied forth upon his desperate errand. The Tolbooth was but a few paces from his own door, and he was familiar with the jail, both as a Town Councillor and in the ordinary course of his employment. Arrived there, he congratulated the officials on their capture, and expressed his curiosity to see the redoubtable burglars with whose deeds all Edinburgh was then ringing, but was informed that no one was allowed access to them. He was therefore compelled to return home no wiser than he went, where, it is probable, the owner of the house in Brodie’s Close passed a sleepless and remorseful night.

Next morning, realising that the game was up, and that he must prepare for the worst--for he might now be arrested at any moment--Deacon Brodie sent for his foreman, Robert Smith, at eight o’clock, told him that he was about to leave town for a day or two on business, and gave him a message about a waistcoat and a pair of breeches he required for the journey. He then casually asked “if there were any news about the people who had broke into the Excise.” The foreman answered that Smith was in custody, and that Brown had been sent to England; and, knowing his master’s intimacy with these men, added that he hoped he (Brodie) was not concerned with them, to which the other made no reply.

If he was to fly the country it was essential that the Deacon should be in touch with his relations in Edinburgh, upon whose assistance he would principally have to rely. He therefore promptly called upon his cousin--whose name was considerately withheld in the subsequent proceedings--and explained the situation. This gentleman’s feelings, as he listened to the disclosures of his respectable relative, may readily be imagined. But the honour of the family was at stake, and he seems to have done everything he could to further the Deacon’s plans. The necessary arrangements made, early in the forenoon of Sunday, 9th March, while the good folks of Edinburgh were still in church, Deacon Brodie burnt his boats and stole secretly out of the city.

Had the Deacon’s confidence in the loyalty of his late companions been stronger, it is possible he might even yet have weathered the storm, for neither Smith nor Ainslie in the declarations emitted by them on the Saturday had admitted their guilt or made any reference to his connection with them. So far, therefore, the statements of Brown were uncorroborated; and if, in modern parlance, Brodie had decided “to face the music” and remain in Edinburgh, his fortunes might have taken a different turn.

In the course of Smith’s first examination before the Sheriff a curious incident occurred. He was confronted with the ploughman, John Kinnear, whose coulter had been stolen by Ainslie and Brown as before narrated, in order to try if that person could identify him. Kinnear, never having seen him before, failed to do so. At this moment, however, Smith’s dog “Rodney,” having followed his master to the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office, came into the room, and the ploughman at once recognised it as the black dog which he had seen with the men in the field at Duddingston. The animal ran up to Smith and fawned upon him, thus, in spite of his denial, establishing the fact of his ownership. “Rodney” figures in Kay’s sketch of the first meeting of Brodie and Smith.

On Monday, 10th March, Smith, learning that the Deacon had decamped, and no doubt hoping to secure more favourable terms for himself, sent for the Sheriff and informed him “that he wished to have an opportunity of making a clean breast and telling the truth.” He thereupon emitted his second declaration, laying bare the whole operations of the gang, and implicating Brodie to the fullest extent, his admissions being afterwards confirmed by Ainslie.

The following paragraph appeared next day in the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_:--“The depredations that have been committed by housebreakers in and about this city for this some time past have been no less alarming than the art with which they have been executed, and the concealment that has attended them has been surprising. From a discovery, however, just made, there is reason to hope that a stop will soon be put to such acts of atrocious villainy. With what amazement must it strike every friend to virtue and honesty to find that a person is charged with a crime of the above nature who very lately held a distinguished rank among his fellow-citizens? With what pity and compunction must we view the unfortunate victim who falls a sacrifice to justice for having violated the laws of his country, to which violation he was perhaps impelled by necessity, when rank, ease, and opulence are forfeited in endeavouring to gratify the most sordid avarice? For to what other cause than avarice can we impute the late robbery committed upon the Excise Office, when the situation of the supposed perpetrator is considered? No excuse from necessity can be pled for a man in the enjoyment of thousands, who will run the risk of life, honour, and reputation in order to attain the unlawful possession of what could in a very trifling degree add to his supposed happiness.--See the advertisement from the Sheriff-Clerk’s Office.”

The advertisement to which this article refers--a copy of which will be found in the Appendix--was the offer by the Procurator-Fiscal of a reward of two hundred pounds for the apprehension of “William Brodie, a considerable house carpenter, and burgess of the city of Edinburgh,” together with the minute and somewhat unflattering description of that gentleman’s personal appearance, to which we have already alluded. So the murder was out at last, and the ex-Town Councillor became a fugitive from justice with a price upon his head.

In consequence of the revelations of Smith, the officers of justice proceeded on Monday, 10th March, to search the house in Brodie’s Close. There Smith, who accompanied them, unearthed the Deacon’s pistols, buried in his woodyard. His dark lantern, several pick-locks, and a parcel of false keys were also found--the first “in a pen where game-cocks had been

kept”--together with “a black case, with a lid to it, the case full of potty,” with which it had been the Deacon’s amiable habit to take impressions of his friends’ door keys, and of which Smith remarked that he “approved of Brodie keeping the potty in a case, as the lid prevented an impression of a key, when taken, from being defaced.” On a subsequent occasion, Smith conducted the sheriff-officers to the foot of Warriston’s Close, where the iron crow--“Little Samuel”--the “toupee tongs,” and the false key for the Excise Office door were discovered hidden “in an old dyke.” The Deacon’s dark lantern and twenty-five false keys were, on 13th December, 1841, presented by the then Clerk of Justiciary to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, in whose museum they still remain.

On Tuesday, 11th March, George Williamson, King’s Messenger for Scotland, was deputed to search for the missing Deacon. He tried several of Brodie’s haunts in Edinburgh and Leith--even examining the enclosed tombs in Greyfriars Churchyard, which had more than once sheltered living offenders against the law--but without success. Prosecuting his inquiries along the London Road, Williamson first got scent of his quarry at Dunbar, which the fugitive had left at four o’clock on the Sunday afternoon in a post-chaise, and afterwards traced him to Newcastle, where he had taken the “Flying Mercury” light coach for York and London. From the coachman of that vehicle Williamson learned that Deacon Brodie had left the coach at the foot of Old Street, Moorfields, instead of proceeding to the “Bull and Mouth,” where the coach stopped, and there all trace of him was lost. His pursuer repaired to the billiard tables, hazard tables, cock-pits, tennis courts, and other likely places, without hearing anything of him, and pushed his inquiries as far as Margate, Deal, and Dover, with the like result. Finally, after eighteen days’ fruitless search, the King’s Messenger was compelled to return to Edinburgh and confess himself at fault.

* * * * *

We must now, in our turn, set forth in search of Mr. Brodie; and as to his doings after leaving Edinburgh we have the evidence of his own letter to Michael Henderson. He writes--“Were I to write you all that has happened to me, and the hair-breadth escapes I made from a well-scented pack of bloodhounds, it would make a small volume. I arrived in London on Wednesday, 12th March, where I remained snug and safe in the house of an old female friend until Sunday, 23rd March (whose care for me I shall never forget, and only wish I may ever have it in my power to reward her sufficiently), within five hundred yards of Bow Street. I did not keep the house all this time, but so altered, excepting the scar under my eye, I think you could not have rapt [swore] to me. I saw Mr. Williamson twice; but although countrymen commonly shake hands when they meet from home, yet I did not choose to make so free with him notwithstanding he brought a letter to me. He is a clever man, and I give him credit for his conduct. My female gave me great uneasiness by introducing a flash man to me, but she assured me he was a true man, and he proved himself so, notwithstanding the great reward, and was useful to me. I saw my picture [his description in the newspapers] six hours before, exhibited to public view, and my intelligence of what was doing at Bow Street Office was as good as ever I had in Edinburgh. I make no doubt but that designing villain Brown is now in high favour with Mr. Cockburn [the Sheriff], for I can see some strokes of his pencil in my portrait. May God forgive him for all his crimes and falsehoods.” It is evident that the impartial terms of this description were unpalatable to its subject.

The scar to which the Deacon here alludes was a souvenir of his membership of the club in the Fleshmarket Close, and the occasion of his receiving it is thus referred to in the answers of Hamilton, the master sweep, in the process before mentioned--“Mr. Brodie, in all his innocent amusements, never met with any person who, after having been fleeced of money to the amount of a hundred pounds, and detected of the vile and dishonest methods by which it had been abstracted from him, received, as a return for his moral rectitude, a very handsome incision on the eye--never he, indeed! He never was in such company, nor ever met with such an accident--not he!” This scar may be observed in the portraits of the Deacon by Kay.

Deacon Brodie had brought with him to London an introduction from his cousin to Mr. William Walker, attorney in the Adelphi, who busied himself in the fugitive’s affairs, lent him twelve guineas, and arranged to have him shipped safely off to the Continent so soon as the coast was sufficiently clear.