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commanding a company of lilting Highlanders. In my bearing there was the legacy of my
police training. Obviously.
    ‘Yer no’ polis, are ye?’
    ‘Not at all. I’ve been south for a while. Army.’ As if that explained anything. But it seemed to satisfy him.
    ‘I’ve got some stuff roon the back. Gie’s a minute.’
    He went through his curtain and appeared a minute later carrying a large wooden box. He laid it on the counter and made a performance of opening the lid. A piece of dark blue velvet lay over a
collection of bumps. He took out the velvet and smoothed it on the counter. My eyes fell on the uncovered contents. The box was lined with ridges in the same blue velvet. Carefully seated on the
ridges were glowing items of precious metals and stones: garnets and rubies, silver and gold, marcasite and pearls. And ivory.
    I gazed in. ‘That’s more like it.’
    ‘Aye. This is ma best stuff, so it is.’
    ‘Had them long?’ I began sifting through the items trying to keep the interest out of my voice.
    ‘Varies. Some just come in. Others a wee while. Ah only show this to
discerning
customers.’
    I began picking out items and setting them on the velvet cloth. One by one I ticked off mentally the list in my pocket: the ivory wolf with diamond eyes; the ruby ring in its baroque gold
setting; the hat pin with the massive amethyst head. The cufflinks of silver and ivory inset with a silver Star of David. The dangling earrings with perfect matching pearls. Old Mrs Bernstein would
be pleased.
    I was aware that with each item I brought out, the man behind the counter was becoming increasingly still and silent. I looked up at McGill. The pince-nez weren’t the only reason for his
eyes being wide. His mouth was gawping. He wiped the back of his hand over his lips.
    ‘When did you get these, Mr McGill?’
    I saw him swallow, twice. ‘Ah’ve hud them a while, so Ah huv.’
    ‘No you haven’t. When did you get them in? And who brought them?’
    ‘Look, pal, it’s a’ legit. Ah just bought the lot the other day. Ah can do you a guid price.’
    ‘Could you? How about a farthing for the lot? And then I can return them to their owners and you can hand yourself in to Albany Street. Ask for Detective Inspector Todd.’
    McGill all but collapsed. He reeled back and grabbed the counter.
    ‘Ah thocht you werenae polis?’
    ‘I’m not. But I used to be. Now I’m a reporter for the
Gazette
. Your wee shop could maybe do with some publicity?’
    ‘Aw no. Gie’s a brek, mister. Ah don’t ask questions when stuff comes here. Ah jist take it on trust. Ah mean it’s no as if the folk coming by have receipts or
nothin’, is it?’
    ‘A name.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Give me a name. Who brought these in? Tell me a name and I will take these, and give you a receipt.’
    The glasses were off now. He was rubbing his eyes like a kid. I hoped he wouldn’t greet.
    ‘Ah cannae, Ah jist cannae. The fella’ll kill me, so he will. He’s a baddie, right enough. Ma life will no’ be worth a sugar moose.’
    I sighed and carefully rolled up the booty in the velvet cloth. It was an expensive tube. ‘Well, I’m taking these back to their owners anyway. I’ll give Inspector Todd a call
and he’ll come and get you. Oh, and I’ll make sure I send you a copy of the newspaper tomorrow to Turnbull Street. You’ll love what I say about you.’
    I turned and walked towards the door.
    ‘Wait! Wait a minute! Christ! For Christ’s sake, pal. You’re gonnae get me killed!’
    I shrugged.
    He lurched forward over the counter. ‘OK. OK! Ah’ll tell ye.’

SEVEN
    ‘D uncan? It’s Brodie. I’ve got a name for you.’ I was calling from the phone in Sam’s house. She wasn’t home
yet.
    ‘How about Inspector?’
    ‘The name of the thief. I talked to one of your fences, Sanny Carmichael, who clyped on one of his business rivals: McGill the pawnbroker. I encouraged McGill to whisper in my ear. Oh, and
I retrieved some of the