Because it is only in the crowd and collision that the stolen person is unaware of the touch of the petty thief, the wallet and the pocket watch. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 But, beyond that, which Ivar has only now learned, in order to be sure, there must be some way to divert people's knee-jerk to protect their property. Paralyze them for a short time. In this case, the shop window is a wonderful way to distract people.

Ivar's discovery simply made him happy, considering that Ivar had never seen a pickpocket in his life, or rather, Ivar was willing to honestly admit that Ivar had seen it once, when he was at university in London. In order to learn English well, Ivar often went to court to sit in court. On one occasion Ivar was on his way, just in time for two policemen to bring a fat young man with fiery red hair to the judge. On the table in front of the judge was a purse, which was the physical evidence; Several witnesses gave their testimony under oath, and then the judge muttered a few words of incoherent English, and the fiery red-haired lad disappeared - if I heard him correctly, and sentenced him to six months. This was the first pickpocket Ivar had ever seen, but - and this is the difference - Ivar had no way of confirming that he was a real pickpocket. It was only by witnesses that his guilt was confirmed, and Ivar only witnessed a legal restatement of his crime, not the crime itself. Ivar saw only a defendant and a convicted criminal, not a thief. You see, a thief is a real thief only when he steals, not when he is tried for his crimes two months later, just as a poet is a real poet only when he is composing, not when he stands in front of people and recites his poems two years later. A person is the creator of his actions only when he realizes them. Now Ivar has the opportunity of a once-in-a-century opportunity to observe him at the moment that best shows the characteristics of a thief, and to know what is most true in his essence. It is so difficult to observe such a fleeting moment, it is as difficult as it is to get a glimpse of a woman's moment of conception and labor. The thought of this possibility really thrilled Ivar.

Of course, Ivar decided not to miss such a wonderful opportunity not to miss a single detail, and to observe in detail how the preparation for the theft was carried out and how the theft was carried out. Ivar immediately got up and left the chair he was sitting in front of the café, where Ivar's vision was too limited. Now Ivar needed a vantage point with a wide view, that is, an active observation point from which he could be watched without hindrance. Ivar tried several places and finally settled on a kiosk surrounded by posters of various London theatres. Ivar could stand here and pretend to be single-mindedly looking at the poster without attracting attention, while actually observing the pickpocket from here under the cover of the pillar. In this way, Ivar watched with a tenacity that even he himself could not understand now, and how this guy **** that was difficult and dangerous. Ivar doesn't remember a time when Ivar had watched an actor perform in a theater or cinema with such great interest. The most dramatic moments of reality are far superior to and superior to reality in any art form.

A pickpocket, when he reaches out his hand to his prey, must have clear and amiable eyes, and he must humbly mutter, "Excuse me, sir" in the most bland tone. However, this is not enough. At the moment of his theft, cunning, vigilance, and agility were not enough. Before that, he must have the intellect and the ability to recognize people, and he must examine his subjects as a psychologist and physiologist. Of the whole crowd, those who were careless and credulous were the ones he considered, and among them only those who did not button up their coats, those who did not walk too fast, who could come up to him without notice, were the real targets; Of a hundred or five hundred pedestrians, which Ivar counted at that hour, only one or two could fall into his hunting grounds, no more. A wise thief can only steal from a very small number of subjects, and in most of these very few subjects, his theft attempt has failed at the last moment for countless fortuitous reasons. For pickpockets to be traded, it is necessary to have a wealth of life experience, vigilance and self-control from Ivar. You know, when a thief steals, he not only chooses and approaches his object with all his tense senses, but also at the same time uses another of his spasmodic senses to see if someone is staring at him. Whether it's a cop or an agent on a street corner, or a pesky curiosity, it's always up and down the street. He could not ignore all this, whether his hands would be reflected in the window and thus expose him, whether anyone was looking at him from behind the shop and the window. The energy is so great, the danger is so great, the two are simply disproportionate, and it only takes a small mistake or miscalculation to say goodbye to this sunny boulevard for three to four years; A slight tremor in the fingers, or a slight tension in the movements of the hands, then you have to break up with freedom. It was a great deal of audacity to steal on a boulevard in broad daylight, and Ivar only now understood. Since then, Ivar has felt unfair whenever the newspapers treat such theft as a trivial matter, giving them only a few lines in the crime section. You know, of all the legal and illegal crafts in their world, this line of work is the most difficult and dangerous: some of its highest achievements can make one think that it is an art. Ivar has the right to say this, and is able to prove it, because in Moscow, Ivar experienced it and felt it personally.

Ivar had experienced it himself, and it was no exaggeration for Ivar to say this, for it was only in the beginning, only in the first few minutes, that Ivar was able to observe his craft completely truthfully and dispassionately; Any kind of passionate observation provokes an irrepressible emotion that unites you with the object of your observation; Thus, unconsciously, involuntarily, Ivar himself gradually merged himself with the thief, and in a way, Ivar had entered his skin, his hands, from a mere spectator to his spiritual collaborator. The process of transformation began like this: after fifteen minutes of surveillance, Ivar himself was surprised to feel that he was already assessing which of them was suitable for theft as he observed passers-by. Whether their shirts were buttoned up or open, whether their gazes were careless or attentive, whether their wallets were bulging, in short, whether they were worth the effort of Ivar's new friend. It didn't take long for Ivar to admit that Ivar was no longer a neutral in the battle that had already begun, and Ivar was desperate for him to succeed in the end, and Ivar even had to try to suppress his urge to help him. When a gambler is about to make a mistake, the card fan standing next to him is so anxious that he touches him with both arms to remind him to pay attention to the card, and Ivar is in a hurry now; When Ivar's friend misses a good opportunity, Ivar really wants to give him a look: Quick, don't let him go! That's him, the fat man, the guy with a big bouquet of flowers under his arm! Or when Ivarra's friend flashes out of the crowd again, and a policeman comes out of the corner, Ivar feels compelled to warn him, it's his obligation; He was so frightened that his knees struck as if he had been caught, and Ivar seemed to have felt a large police hand fall on his shoulder.

But the poor man had come out of the crowd with a gentle and casual manner, and walked past the policeman. It's all breathlessly tense. However, Ivar felt that this was not enough, and the more Ivar experienced the man's inner workings, and the more he learned about his craft, which had been subjected to no less than twenty failed attempts, the more impatient Ivar became: why did he keep doing it, why did he always try and estimate. Ivar was simply annoyed by his stupid hesitation and never-ending cringe. Hell, you coward, do it! Hey, be bold!

Look at! That's it, you do it!

Fortunately, Ivar's friends didn't know it, and they didn't think of Ivar's unsolicited sympathy, and he wasn't distracted by Ivar's anxiety.

There is a difference between a real, tried and tested veteran and a novice, an amateur and a layman: the skilled man, who has a long experience and knows that every real success must be preceded by many failures, is accustomed to doing things in a hurry, patiently waiting for the last and decisive opportunity. He examined, peeped, tentatively, rubbed against others, and had touched their bags and coats with his hands hundreds of times. But he still could not make up his mind, and with untiring patience, he paced back and forth again and again, unobtrusively, thirty paces from the window. At the same time, he leaned away from his surroundings, weighing all the possibilities and weighing all the dangers that he had not discovered. There was something in this calm, uncanny tenacity that intrigued Ivar, an impatient man, and convinced him that he would succeed in the end, for his tenacious perseverance showed that he would not give up until he had achieved his goal. So Ivar also made up his mind not to leave until he saw his victory, even if Ivar waited until midnight.

It's noon. This is the time of high tide. A noisy stream of people poured from the narrow streets and alleys, from all the stairs and courtyards to the wide boulevards like riverbeds. The workers, the tailors, and the clerks who were locked up in countless studios on the second, third, and fourth floors rushed out of the workshops, factories, offices, schools, and offices. The crowd spread out like a cloud of cloudy steam in the streets: workers in white shirts and smocks, girls chattering and wearing small bunches of violets pinned to their dresses, petty officials in crisp dresses with briefcases tucked under their armpits, porters, soldiers in red uniforms, and countless people of all kinds whose identities could not be determined. They had sat in the stuffy room for too long, and now they wanted to stretch their legs and feet, move their muscles and bones, bustle around, breathe fresh air, and huddle through the crowd.

The man broke away from the crowd and came to Ivar's side, where he sat down on a bench.

"You've been staring at me all morning, and I want to know, how did you find me?" The man asked in a light-hearted, witty tone.

Ivar was surprised to notice that his demeanor had changed completely as he spoke, more like a cultured gentleman than a thief.

Who is he? What are you going to do?

"It's an instinct." Ivar replied calmly, "I'll notice you as soon as you appear." ”

"You seem to be confident in your instincts, Mr. Land Surveyor." There was a hint of sarcasm in the other party's voice, "You probably can't imagine who I am." ”

When Ivar heard the word "land surveyor" as if he heard a thunderclap, he almost jumped out of his chair and rushed into the crowd, but he restrained himself from acting rashly.

"You're a detective in disguise." Ivar said, stroking his hand lightly in his pocket, which contained a small pistol.

"Introduce yourself! My name is Sallock? Holmes, private investigator. Noticing his small movements, he smiled and gave a warning, "I advise you not to touch your pistol, Mr. Ivar, otherwise, your life will be in danger." ”

Ivar looked around alarmedly, but found no police or anyone trying to capture him.

"Looks like there's something wrong with my little disguise," Holmes sighed a little frustrated, "and you only found me, but not my assistants." ”

Ivar looked around again, but still didn't find the accomplice Holmes was talking about.

"Don't bluff there." Ivar said viciously, and was about to pull out his pistol, but suddenly something flew silently from a distance, hitting him in the right arm.

Ivar felt a sharp pain in his right arm, and then lost consciousness.

"You see, I didn't lie to you, Mr. Ivar." Holmes looked at him with a smile, nodded into the distance, reached out and pulled the small pistol out of his coat pocket, examined it carefully, and put it in his pocket.

Ivar stared blankly at a small piece of iron (ninja dart) in the shape of a six-pointed star inserted in his right arm, and his whole body was cold for a while.

He turned his head to look in the general direction in which the darts had come from, and saw a middle-aged woman in a coarse cloth dress standing in front of the steps of the street, who looked like a poor person. In her right hand she carefully pulled a pale-faced little girl of about eleven or twelve, and in her left hand she carried a cheap daily bag, in which two English buns were placed casually; The contents of the bag were supposed to be lunch for her husband.

She and the little girl glanced at Ivar with blank expressions, and then turned their gaze away.

Could it be them? ……

"You're still very observant." "I always thought that my camouflage skills were among the best in Europe, and that no one could compare to them, but today I admit that they are a joke in front of the ninjas of the East. ”

Hearing this, Ivar knew that it was impossible for him to escape.

After clarifying his situation, Ivar somehow calmed down.

"I don't understand what you're talking about." Ivar wanted to stand up, but was unsuccessful, "I also don't want to talk nonsense with you a tramp and a thief, I'm a counselor of the Russian legation, Prakovich?" Ivar, you have no right to do anything to me, Detective Holmes. ”

"You have finally identified yourself, and sure enough, you are a Russian, although I have found more of a French air in you." Holmes nodded, "However, your Russian status does not protect you now, because you are involved in a serious crime, and my friend and I have the authority of the British government to arrest you, and the reason why you are still sitting here is to wait for your accomplices." Can you tell me that they will be coming today? ”

"They saw that I had been talking to a homeless man for so long, of course it wouldn't have appeared." Ivar sneered.

"Oh, that's a shame." Holmes didn't seem to care, "However, with you, I think it should not be too difficult to track down their whereabouts, as well as all the intelligence agents of the Russian Empire in London." ”

"That's impossible!" Ivar said, slamming his tongue out of his denture, trying to bite it open, but Holmes struck at his jaw with a lightning strike, making it impossible for his teeth to bite.

"Look, how prescient my ninja friends were! They told me that you Russian spies may have a highly toxic drug in your mouth that you could use to kill yourself. Although Holmes's hand looks thin, at this moment, it is as strong as steel tongs, "so I prepared in advance......

Holmes said, waving his head to the middle-aged woman, who and the little girl walked over quickly, and the woman helped Holmes to separate Ivar's mouth, and the little girl reached out and scooped out the poisonous denture from Ivar's mouth, carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief, put it in his handbag, and then took out a towel from his handbag and stuffed it into Ivar's mouth. (To be continued.) )