"At the time of the great fog, Molin and a _pal_ named Dorlé were
stationed at the environs of the Place des Italiens. An old gentleman
passed, and Dorlé stole his watch which he passed to Molin. The darkness
was so great that he could not discern if it were a repeater or not, and
to ascertain this, Molin pressed down the spring: the hammer instantly
struck on the bell, and by the sound the old man knew his watch, and
instantly cried out--'My watch! my watch! pray restore me my watch,
it belonged to my grandfather, and is a family piece.'

"Whilst uttering these lamentations, he endeavoured to go in the
direction whence the sound had proceeded, to get his watch as he
expected and hoped to do. He came close up to Molin, who, under cover
of the dense fog, put his hand with the watch in it close to the old
gentleman's ear, and pushing the spring again, said, whilst the watch
was striking--'Listen then to its sounds for the last time;' and with
this cruel advice the two thieves then went away, leaving the worthy
undone elderly to bewail his loss.

"The ancient _voleurs à la tire_ cite still, as amongst the
celebrated personages of their profession, two Italians, the brothers
Verdure, the eldest of whom, convicted of forming one of a band of
chauffeurs, was sentenced to death. On the day of execution, the
younger, who was at liberty, wished to see his brother as he left the
prison, and with several of his comrades took his station on the road.
When thieves go out in the evening into a crowd they generally have a
preconcerted word of alarm or summons, by which to call or distinguish
their accomplices. Young Verdure, on seeing the fatal car, uttered
his, which was _lorge_, to which the criminal, looking about him,
replied _lorge_. This singular salute given and returned, it may be
imagined that young Verdure retired. On his road he had already stolen