I am strongly of the opinion that the twelfth man was entirely without money at the time he met Angus, or I feel that he would have proved no exception to the rule.

In my heart I was glad to find that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester are just as kind-hearted and likely to be imposed upon as we are in London.
But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for one gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five years ago writes to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid he took a wrong turning." It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, and yet it would appear that he never asked for a single penny since he first started on his endless search.

He always accepts money reluctantly, and I much question whether the police have right to arrest him, or the gulled public any ground to complain.
But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, and that respected gentleman should return the five shillings we gave to help his unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more careful in pressing money upon strangers in future.

But whether the money comes to hand or not I have made myself a promise, and it is this: never more to get out of a warm bed on a cold night to open the house and entertain a half-blind man that speaks with a rich Scotch accent.
But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its success, and Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen.

Certainly if he is alone he must be almost ubiquitous.