He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking,
erect, self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two
sovereigns and the fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his
Parisian friend. I spoke hopefully of a new life in a new
country and of the future of his wife and children; he never
blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French lady with fluffy
hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted work, honest
work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would build up
a home" for his wife and children.

I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together,
and he talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard
work, and I befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked
for more! He was a citizen of the world, and spoke more than one
language. Our companionship continued for some months, and then
my friend and myself had to sever our connection.

He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a
large scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I
think, almost unequalled!

They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them
most expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods
against burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods,
realised the insurance, and then vanished to repeat their
proceedings elsewhere.

So clever were they at the business that costly but portable
goods were freely submitted to their tender mercies. They