Recollections of a Policeman

  Part XII.

  A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.

  In pursuance of the intention mentioned at the close of a former paperon "The Modern Science of Thief-taking," we now proceed to endeavor toconvey to our readers some faint idea of the extraordinary dexterity,patience, and ingenuity, exercised by the Detective Police. That ourdescription may be as graphic as we can render it, and may be perfectlyreliable, we will make it, so far as in us lies, a piece of plain truth.And first, we have to inform the reader how the anecdotes we are aboutto communicate, came to our knowledge.

  We are not by any means devout believers in the Old Bow-Street Police.To say the truth, we think there was a vast amount of humbug about thoseworthies. Apart from many of them being men of very indifferentcharacter, and far too much in the habit of consorting with thieves andthe like, they never lost a public occasion of jobbing and trading inmystery and making the most of themselves. Continually puffed besides byincompetent magistrates anxious to conceal their own deficiencies, andhand-in-glove with the penny-a-liners of that time, they became a sortof superstition. Although as a Preventive Police they were utterlyineffective, and as a Detective Police were very loose and uncertain intheir operations, they remain with some people, a superstition to thepresent day.

  On the other hand, the Detective Force organized since the establishmentof the existing Police, is so well chosen and trained, proceeds sosystematically and quietly, does its business in such a workman-likemanner, and is always so calmly and steadily engaged in the service ofthe public, that the public really do not know enough of it, to know atithe of its usefulness. Impressed with this conviction, and interestedin the men themselves, we represented to the authorities at ScotlandYard, that we should be glad, if there were no official objection, tohave some talk with the Detectives. A most obliging and ready permissionbeing given, a certain evening was appointed with a certain Inspectorfor a social conference between ourselves and the Detectives, at ourOffice in Wellington Street, Strand, London. In consequence of whichappointment the party "came off," which we are about to describe. And webeg to repeat that, avoiding such topics as it might for obvious reasonsbe injurious to the public, or disagreeable to respectable individualsto touch upon in print, our description is as exact as we can make it.

  Just at dusk, Inspectors Wield and Stalker are announced; but we do notundertake to warrant the orthography of any of the names here mentioned.Inspector Wield presents Inspector Stalker. Inspector Wield is amiddle-aged man of a portly presence, with a large, moist, knowing eye,a husky voice, and a habit of emphasising his conversation by the aid ofa corpulent fore-finger, which is constantly in juxta-position with hiseyes or nose. Inspector Stalker is a shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman--inappearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trainedschool-master, from the Normal Establishment at Glasgow. Inspector Wieldone might have known, perhaps, for what he is--Inspector Stalker, never.

  The ceremonies of reception over, Inspectors Wield and Stalker observethat they have brought some sergeants with them. The sergeants arepresented--five in number, Sergeant Dornton, Sergeant Witchem, SergeantMith, Sergeant Fendall, and Sergeant Straw. We have the whole DetectiveForce from Scotland Yard with one exception. They sit down in asemicircle (the two Inspectors at the two ends) at a little distancefrom the round table, facing the editorial sofa. Every man of them, in aglance, immediately takes an inventory of the furniture and an accuratesketch of the editorial presence. The Editor feels that any gentleman incompany could take him up, if need should be, without the smallesthesitation, twenty years hence.

  The whole party are in plain clothes. Sergeant Dornton, about fiftyyears of age, with a ruddy face and a high sun-burnt forehead, has theair of one who has been a Sergeant in the army--he might have sat toWilkie for the Soldier in the Reading of the Will. He is famous forsteadily pursuing the inductive process, and, from small beginnings,working on from clue to clue until he bags his man. Sergeant Witchem,shorter and thicker-set, and marked with the small-pox, has something ofa reserved and thoughtful air, as if he were engaged in deeparithmetical calculations. He is renowned for his acquaintance with theswell mob. Sergeant Mith, a smooth-faced man with a fresh brightcomplexion, and a strange air of simplicity, is a dab at housebreakers.Sergeant Fendall, a light-haired, well-spoken, polite person, is aprodigious hand at pursuing private inquiries of a delicate nature.Straw, a little wiry Sergeant of meek demeanor and strong sense, wouldknock at a door and ask a series of questions in any mild character youchose to prescribe to him, from a charity-boy upwards, and seem asinnocent as an infant. They are, one and all, respectable-looking men;of perfectly good deportment and unusual intelligence; with nothinglounging or slinking in their manners; with an air of keen observation,and quick perception when addressed; and generally presenting in theirfaces, traces more or less marked of habitually leading lives of strongmental excitement. They have all good eyes; and they all can, and theyall do, look full at whomsoever they speak to.

  We light the cigars, and hand round the glasses (which are verytemperately used indeed), and the conversation begins by a modestamateur reference on the Editorial part to the swell mob. InspectorWield immediately removes his cigar from his lips, waves his right hand,and says, "Regarding the Swell Mob, Sir, I can't do better than callupon Sergeant Witchem. Because the reason why? I'll tell you. SergeantWitchem is better acquainted with the Swell Mob than any officer inLondon."

  Our heart leaping up when we beheld this rainbow in the sky, we turn toSergeant Witchem, who very concisely, and in well-chosen language, goesinto the subject forthwith. Meantime, the whole of his brother officersare closely interested in attending to what he says, and observing itseffect. Presently they begin to strike in, one or two together, when anopportunity offers, and the conversation becomes general. But thesebrother officers only come in to the assistance of each other--not tothe contradiction--and a more amicable brotherhood there could not be.From the swell mob, we diverge to the kindred topics of cracksmen,fences, public-house dancers, area-sneaks, designing young people who goout "gonophing," and other "schools," to which our readers have alreadybeen introduced. It is observable throughout these revelations, thatInspector Stalker, the Scotchman, is always exact and statistical, andthat when any question of figures arises, everybody as by one consentpauses, and looks to him.

  When we have exhausted the various schools of Art--during whichdiscussion the whole body have remained profoundly attentive, exceptwhen some unusual noise at the Theatre over the way, has induced somegentleman to glance inquiringly towards the window in that direction,behind his next neighbor's back--we burrow for information on suchpoints as the following. Whether there really are any highway robberiesin London, or whether some circumstances not convenient to be mentionedby the aggrieved party, usually precede the robberies complained of,under that head, which quite change their character? Certainly thelatter, almost always. Whether in the case of robberies in houses, whereservants are necessarily exposed to doubt, innocence under suspicionever becomes so like guilt in appearance, that a good officer need becautious how he judges it? Undoubtedly. Nothing is so common ordeceptive as such appearances at first. Whether in a place of publicamusement, a thief knows an officer, and an officer knows athief,--supposing them, beforehand, strangers to each other--becauseeach recognizes in the other, under all disguise, an inattention to whatis going on, and a purpose that is not the purpose of being entertained?Yes. That's the way exactly. Whether it is reasonable or ridiculous totrust to the alleged experiences of thieves as narrated by themselves,in prisons, or penitentiaries, or anywhere? In general, nothing moreabsurd. Lying is their habit and their trade; and they would ratherlie--even if they hadn't an interest in it, and didn't want to makethemselves agreeable--than tell the truth.

  From these topics, we glide into a review of the most celebrated andhorrible of the great crimes that have been committed within the lastfifteen or twenty years. The men engaged in the discovery of almost allof them, and in the pursuit or apprehension
of the murderers, are here,down to the very last instance. One of our guests gave chase to andboarded the Emigrant Ship, in which the murderess last hanged in Londonwas supposed to have embarked. We learn from him that his errand was notannounced to the passengers, who may have no idea of it to this hour.That he went below, with the captain, lamp in hand--it being dark, andthe whole steerage abed and sea-sick--and engaged the Mrs. Manning who_was_ on board, in a conversation about her luggage, until she was, withno small pains, induced to raise her head, and turn her face towards thelight. Satisfied that she was not the object of his search, he quietlyre-embarked in the Government steamer alongside, and steamed home againwith the intelligence.

  When we have exhausted these subjects, too, which occupy a considerabletime in the discussion, two or three leave their chairs, whisperSergeant Witchem, and resume their seats. Sergeant Witchem, leaningforward a little, and placing a hand on each of his legs, then modestlyspeaks as follows:

  "My brother-officers wish me to relate a little account of my takingTally-ho Thompson. A man oughtn't to tell what he has done himself; butstill, as nobody was with me, and, consequently, as nobody but myselfcan tell it, I'll do it in the best way I can, if it should meet yourapproval."

  We assure Sergeant Witchem that he will oblige us very much, and we allcompose ourselves to listen with great interest and attention.

  "Tally-ho Thompson," says Sergeant Witchem, after merely wetting hislips with his brandy and water, "Tally-ho Thompson was a famoushorse-stealer, couper, and magsman. Thompson, in conjunction with a palthat occasionally worked with him, gammoned a countryman out of a goodround sum of money, under pretence of getting him a situation--theregular old dodge--and was afterwards in the 'Hue and Cry' for ahorse--a horse that he stole, down in Hertfordshire. I had to look afterThompson, and I applied myself, of course, in the first instance, todiscovering where he was. Now, Thompson's wife lived, along with alittle daughter, at Chelsea. Knowing that Thompson was somewhere in thecountry, I watched the house--especially at post-time in themorning--thinking Thompson was pretty likely to write to her. Sureenough, one morning the postman comes up, and delivers a letter at Mrs.Thompson's door. Little girl opens the door, and takes it in. We're notalways sure of postmen, though the people at the post-offices are alwaysvery obliging. A postman may help us, or he may not,--just as ithappens. However, I go across the road, and I say to the postman, afterhe has left the letter, 'Good morning! how are you?' 'How are you?' sayshe. 'You've just delivered a letter for Mrs. Thompson.' 'Yes, I have.''You didn't happen to remark what the post-mark was, perhaps?' 'No,'says he, 'I didn't.' 'Come,' says I, 'I'll be plain with you. I'm in asmall way of business, and I have given Thompson credit, and I can'tafford to lose what he owes me. I know he's got money, and I know he'sin the country, and if you could tell me what the post-mark was, Ishould be very much obliged to you, and you'd do a service to atradesman in a small way of business that can't afford a loss.' 'Well,'he said, 'I do assure you that I did not observe what the post-mark was;all I know is, that there was money in the letter--I should say asovereign.' This was enough for me, because of course I knew thatThompson having sent his wife money, it was probable she'd write toThompson, by return of post, to acknowledge the receipt. So I said'Thankee' to the postman, and I kept on the watch. In the afternoon Isaw the little girl come out. Of course I followed her. She went into astationer's shop, and I needn't say to you that I looked in at thewindow. She bought some writing-paper and envelopes, and a pen. I thinkto myself, 'That'll do!'--watch her home again--and don't go away, youmay be sure, knowing that Mrs. Thompson was writing her letter toTally-ho, and that the letter would be posted presently. In about anhour or so, out came the little girl again, with the letter in her hand.I went up, and said something to the child, whatever it might have been;but I couldn't see the direction of the letter, because she held it withthe seal upwards. However, I observed that on the back of the letterthere was what we call a kiss--a drop of wax by the side of theseal--and again, you understand, that was enough for me. I saw her postthe letter, waited till she was gone, then went into the shop, and askedto see the Master. When he came out, I told him, 'Now, I'm an Officer inthe Detective Force; there's a letter with a kiss been posted here justnow, for a man that I'm in search of; and what I have to ask of you is,that you will let me look at the direction of that letter.' He was verycivil--took a lot of letters from the box in the window--shook 'em outon the counter with the faces downwards--and there among 'em was theidentical letter with the kiss. It was directed, Mr. Thomas Pigeon,Post-Office, B----, to be left 'till called for. Down I went to B---- (ahundred and twenty miles or so) that night. Early next morning I went tothe Post-Office; saw the gentleman in charge of that department; toldhim who I was; and that my object was to see, and track, the party thatshould come for the letter for Mr. Thomas Pigeon. He was very polite,and said, 'You shall have every assistance we can give you; you can waitinside the office; and we'll take care to let you know when anybodycomes for the letter.' Well, I waited there three days, and began tothink that nobody ever _would_ come. At last the clerk whispered to me,'Here! Detective! Somebody's come for the letter!' 'Keep him a minute,'said I, and I ran round to the outside of the office. There I saw ayoung chap with the appearance of an Ostler, holding a horse by thebridle--stretching the bridle across the pavement, while he waited atthe Post-Office Window for the letter. I began to pat the horse, andthat; and I said to the boy, 'Why, this is Mr. Jones's Mare!' 'No. Itan't.' 'No?' said I. 'She's very like Mr. Jones's Mare!' 'She an't Mr.Jones's Mare, anyhow,' says he. 'It's Mr. So-and-So's, of the WarwickArms.' And up he jumped, and off he went--letter and all. I got a cab,followed on the box, and was so quick after him that I came into thestable-yard of the Warwick Arms, by one gate, just as he came in byanother. I went into the bar, where there was a young woman serving, andcalled for a glass of brandy and water. He came in directly, and handedher the letter. She casually looked at it, without saying anything, andstuck it up behind the glass over the chimney-piece. What was to be donenext?

  "I turned it over in my mind while I drank my brandy and water (lookingpretty sharp at the letter the while), but I couldn't see my way out ofit at all. I tried to get lodgings in the house, but there had been ahorse-fair, or something of that sort, and it was full. I was obliged toput up somewhere else, but I came backwards and forwards to the bar fora couple of days, and there was the letter, always behind the glass. Atlast I thought I 'd write a letter to Mr. Pigeon myself, and see whatthat would do. So I wrote one, and posted it, but I purposely addressedit, Mr. John Pigeon, instead of Mr. Thomas Pigeon, to see what _that_would do. In the morning (a very wet morning it was) I watched thepostman down the street, and cut into the bar, just before he reachedthe Warwick Arms. In he came presently with my letter. 'Is there a Mr.John Pigeon staying here?' 'No!--stop a bit though,' says the bar-maid;and she took down the letter behind the glass. 'No,' says she, 'it'sThomas, and _he_ is not staying here. Would you do me a favor, and postthis for me, as it is so wet?' The postman said Yes; she folded it inanother envelop, directed it, and gave it him. He put it in his hat, andaway he went.

  "I had no difficulty in finding out the direction of that letter. It wasaddressed, Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post-Office, R----, Northamptonshire, tobe left till called for. Off I started directly for R----; I said thesame at the Post-Office there, as I had said at B----; and again Iwaited three days before anybody came. At last another chap on horsebackcame. 'Any letters for Mr. Thomas Pigeon?' 'Where do you come from?''New Inn, near R----.' He got the letter, and away _he_ went--at acanter.

  "I made my enquiries about the New Inn, near R----, and hearing it was asolitary sort of house, a little in the horse line, about a couple ofmiles from the station, I thought I'd go and have a look at it. I foundit what it had been described, and sauntered in, to look about me. Thelandlady was in the bar, and I was trying to get into conversation withher; asked her how business was, and spoke about the wet weather, and soon; when I saw, through an open do
or, three men sitting by the fire in asort of parlor, or kitchen; and one of those men, according to thedescription I had of him, was Tally-ho Thompson!

  "I went and sat down among 'em, and tried to make things agreeable; butthey were very shy--wouldn't talk at all--looked at me, and at oneanother, in a way quite the reverse of sociable. I reckoned 'em up, andfinding that they were all three bigger men than me, and consideringthat their looks were ugly--that it was a lonely place--railroad stationtwo miles off--and night coming on--thought I couldn't do better thanhave a drop of brandy and water to keep my courage up. So I called formy brandy and water; and as I was sitting drinking it by the fire,Thompson got up and went out.

  "Now the difficulty of it was, that I wasn't sure it _was_ Thompson,because I had never set eyes on him before; and what I had wanted was tobe quite certain of him. However, there was nothing for it now, but tofollow, and put a bold face upon it. I found him talking, outside in theyard, with the landlady. It turned out afterwards, that he was wanted bya Northampton officer for something else, and that, knowing that officerto be pock-marked (as I am myself), he mistook me for him. As I haveobserved, I found him talking to the landlady, outside. I put my handupon his shoulder--this way--and said, 'Tally-ho Thompson, it's no use.I know you. I'm an officer from London, and I take you into custody forfelony!' 'That be d--d!' says Tally-ho Thompson.

  "We went back into the house, and the two friends began to cut up rough,and their looks didn't please me at all, I assure you. 'Let the man go.What are you going to do with him?' 'I'll tell you what I'm going to dowith him. I'm going to take him to London to-night, as sure as I'malive. I'm not alone here, whatever you may think. You mind your ownbusiness, and keep yourselves to yourselves. It'll be better for you,for I know you both very well.' _I_'d never seen or heard of 'em in allmy life, but my bouncing cowed 'em a bit, and they kept off, whileThompson was making ready to go. I thought to myself, however, thatthey might be coming after me on the dark road, to rescue Thompson; so Isaid to the landlady, 'What men have you got in the house, Missis?' 'Wehaven't got no men here,' she says, sulkily. 'You have got an ostler, Isuppose?' 'Yes, we've got an ostler.' 'Let me see him.' Presently hecame, and a shaggy-headed young fellow he was. 'Now attend to me, youngman,' says I; 'I'm a Detective Officer from London. This man's name isThompson. I have taken him into custody for felony. I'm going to takehim to the railroad station. I call upon you in the Queen's name toassist me; and mind you, my friend, you'll get yourself into moretrouble than you know of, if you don't!' You never saw a person open hiseyes so wide. 'Now, Thompson, come along!' says I. But when I took outthe handcuffs, Thompson cries, 'No! None of that! I won't stand _them_!I'll go along with you quiet, but I won't bear none of that!' 'Tally-hoThompson,' I said, 'I'm willing to behave as a man to you, if you arewilling to behave as a man to me. Give me your word that you'll comepeaceably along, and I don't want to handcuff you.' 'I will,' saysThompson, 'but I'll have a glass of brandy first.' 'I don't care if I'veanother,' said I. 'We'll have two more, Missis,' said the friends, 'andcon-found you, Constable, you'll give your man a drop, won't you?' I wasagreeable to that, so we had it all round, and then my man and I tookTally-ho Thompson safe to the railroad, and I carried him to London thatnight. He was afterwards acquitted, on account of a defect in theevidence; and I understand he always praises me up to the skies, andsays I'm one of the best of men."

  This story coming to a termination amidst general applause, InspectorWield, after a little grave smoking, fixes his eye on his host, and thusdelivers himself:

  "It wasn't a bad plant that of mine, on Fikey, the man accused offorging the Sou' Western Railway debentures--it was only t'otherday--because the reason why? I'll tell you.

  "I had information that Fikey and his brother kept a factory over yonderthere," indicating any region on the Surrey side of the river, "where hebought second-hand carriages; so after I'd tried in vain to get hold ofhim by other means, I wrote him a letter in an assumed name, saying thatI'd got a horse and shay to dispose of, and would drive down next day,that he might view the lot, and make an offer--very reasonable it was, Isaid--a reg'lar bargain. Straw and me then went off to a friend of minethat's in the livery and job business, and hired a turn-out for the day,a precious smart turn-out, it was--quite a slap-up thing! Down we drove,accordingly, with a friend (who's not in the Force himself); and leavingmy friend in the shay near a public-house, to take care of the horse, wewent to the factory, which was some little way off. In the factory,there was a number of strong fellows at work, and after reckoning 'emup, it was clear to me that it wouldn't do to try it on there. They weretoo many for us. We must get our man out of doors. 'Mr. Fikey at home?'' No, he ain't.' 'Expected home soon?' 'Why, no, not soon.' 'Ah! is hisbrother here?' '_I_'m his brother.' ' Oh! well, this us anill-conwenience, this is. I wrote him a letter yesterday, saying I'd gota little turn-out to dispose of, and I've took the trouble to bring theturn-out down, a' purpose, and now he ain't in the way.' ' No, he an'tin the way. You couldn't make it convenient to call again, could you?' 'Why, no, I couldn't. I want to sell; that's the fact; and I can't put itoff. Could you find him anywheres?' At first he said no, he couldn't,and then he wasn't sure about it, and then he'd go and try. So, at lasthe went up-stairs, where there was a sort of loft, and presently downcomes my man himself, in his shirt-sleeves.

  "'Well,' he says, 'this seems to be rayther a pressing matter of yours.''Yes,' I says, 'it _is_ rayther a pressing matter, and you'll find it abargain--dirt-cheap.' 'I ain't in partickler want of a bargain justnow,' he says, 'but where is it?' 'Why,' I says, 'the turn-out's justoutside. Come and look at it.' He hasn't any suspicions, and away we go.And the first thing that happens is, that the horse runs away with myfriend (who knows no more of driving than a child) when he takes alittle trot along the road to show his paces. You never saw such a gamein your life!

  "When the bolt is over, and the turn-out has come to a stand-stillagain, Fikey walks round and round it, as grave as a judge--me too.'There, Sir!' I says. 'There's a neat thing!' 'It an't a bad style ofthing,' he says. 'I believe you,' says I. 'And there's a horse!'--for Isaw him looking at it. 'Rising eight!' I says, rubbing his fore-legs.(Bless you, there an't a man in the world knows less of horses than Ido, but I'd heard my friend at the Livery Stables say he was eight yearsold, so I says, as knowing as possible, 'Rising Eight.') 'Rising eight,is he?' says he. 'Rising eight,' says I. 'Well,' he says, 'what do youwant for it?' 'Why, the first and last figure for the whole concern isfive-and-twenty pound!' 'That's very cheap!' he says, looking at me.'An't it?' I says. 'I told you it was a bargain! Now, without anyhiggling and haggling about it, what I want is to sell, and that's myprice. Further, I'll make it easy to you, and take half the money down,and you can do a bit of stiff[B] for the balance.' 'Well,' he saysagain, 'that's very cheap.' 'I believe you,' says I; 'get in and try it,and you'll buy it. Come! take a trial!'

  [B] Give a bill

  "Ecod, he gets in, and we get in, and we drive along the road, to showhim to one of the railway clerks that was hid in the public-house windowto identify him. But the clerk was bothered, and didn't know whether itwas him, or wasn't--because the reason why? I'll tell you,--on accountof his having shaved his whiskers. 'It's a clever little horse,' hesays, 'and trots well; and the shay runs light.' 'Not a doubt about it,'I says. 'And now, Mr. Fikey, I may as well make it all right, withoutwasting any more of your time. The fact is, I'm Inspector Wield, andyou're my prisoner.' 'You don't mean that?' he says. 'I do, indeed.''Then burn my body,' says Fikey, 'if this ain't _too_ bad!'

  "Perhaps you never saw a man so knocked over with surprise. 'I hopeyou'll let me have my coat?' he says. 'By all means.' ' Well, then,let's drive to the factory.' 'Why, not exactly that, I think,' said I;'I've been there, once before, to-day. Suppose we send for it.' He sawit was no go so he sent for it, and put it on, and we drove him up toLondon, comfortable."

  This reminiscence is in the height of its success, when a generalproposal is made to the fresh-complexio
ned, smooth-faced officer, withthe strange air of simplicity, to tell the "Butcher's story."

  BUTCHER'S STORY.

  The fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air ofsimplicity, began, with a rustic smile, and in a soft, wheedling tone ofvoice, to relate the Butcher's Story, thus:--

  "It's just about six years ago, now, since information was given atScotland Yard of there being extensive robberies of lawns and silksgoing on, at some wholesale houses in the City. Directions were givenfor the business being looked into; and Straw, and Fendall, and me, wewere all in it."

  "When you received your instructions," said we, "you went away, and helda sort of Cabinet Council together?"

  The smooth-faced officer coaxingly replied, "Ye-es. Just so. We turnedit over among ourselves a good deal. It appeared, when we went into it,that the goods were sold by the receivers extraordinarily cheap--muchcheaper than they could have been if they had been honestly come by. Thereceivers were in the trade, and kept capital shops--establishments ofthe first respectability--one of 'em at the West End, one down inWestminster. After a lot of watching and inquiry, and this and thatamong ourselves, we found that the job was managed, and the purchases ofthe stolen goods made, at a little public-house near Smithfield, down bySaint Bartholomew's; where the Warehouse Porters, who were the thieves,took 'em for that purpose, don't you see? and made appointments to meetthe people that went between themselves and the receivers. Thispublic-house was principally used by journeymen butchers from thecountry, out of place, and in want of situations; so, what did we do,but--ha, ha, ha!--we agreed that I should be dressed up like a butchermyself, and go and live there!"

  Never, surely, was a faculty of observation better brought to bear upona purpose, than that which picked out this officer for the part. Nothingin all creation, could have suited him better. Even while he spoke, hebecame a greasy, sleepy, shy, good-natured, chuckle-headed,unsuspicious, and confiding young butcher. His very hair seemed to havesuet in it, as he made it smooth upon his head, and his fresh complexionto be lubricated by large quantities of animal food.

  ----"So I--ha, ha, ha!" (always with the confiding snigger of thefoolish young butcher) "so I dressed myself in the regular way, made upa little bundle of clothes, and went to the public-house, and asked if Icould have a lodging there? They says, 'yes, you can have a lodginghere,' and I got a bed-room, and settled myself down in the tap. Therewas a number of people about the place, and coming backwards andforwards to the house; and first one says, and then another says, 'Areyou from the country, young man?' 'Yes,' I says, 'I am. I'm come out ofNorthamptonshire, and I'm quite lonely here, for I don't know London atall, and it's such a mighty big town?' 'It is a big town,' they says.'Oh, it's a _very_ big town!' I says. 'Really and truly I never was insuch a town. It quite confuses of me!'--and all that, you know.

  "When some of the Journeyman Butchers that used the house, found that Iwanted a place, they says, 'Oh, we'll get you a place!' And theyactually took me to a sight of places, in Newgate Market, NewportMarket, Clare, Carnaby--I don't know where all. But the wages was--ha,ha, ha!--was not sufficient, and I never could suit myself, don't yousee? Some of the queer frequenters of the house, were a littlesuspicious of me at first, and I was obliged to be very cautious indeed,how I communicated with Straw or Fendall. Sometimes, when I went out,pretending to stop and look into the shop-windows, and just casting myeye round, I used to see some of 'em following me; but, being perhapsbetter accustomed than they thought for, to that sort of thing, I usedto lead 'em on as far as I thought necessary or convenient--sometimes along way--and then turn sharp round, and meet 'em, and say, 'Oh, dear,how glad I am to come upon you so fortunate! This London's such a place,I'm blowed if I an't lost again!' And then we'd go back all together, tothe public-house, and--ha, ha, ha! and smoke our pipes, don't you see?

  "They were very attentive to me, I am sure. It was a common thing, whileI was living there, for some of 'em to take me out, and show me London.They showed me the Prisons--showed me Newgate--and when they showed meNewgate, I stops at the place where the Porters pitch their loads, andsays, 'Oh dear,' 'is this where they hang the men! Oh Lor!' 'That!' theysays, 'what a simple cove he is! _That_ an't it!' And then they pointedout which _was_ it, and I says, 'Lor!' and they says, 'Now you'll knowit agen, won't you?' And I said I thought I should if I tried hard--andI assure you I kept a sharp look out for the City Police when we wereout in this way, for if any of 'em had happened to know me, and hadspoke to me, it would have been all up in a minute. However, by goodluck such a thing never happened, and all went on quiet: though thedifficulties I had in communicating with my brother officers were quiteextraordinary.

  "The stolen goods that were brought to the public-house, by theWarehouse Porters, were always disposed of in a back parlor. For a longtime, I never could get into this parlor, or see what was done there. AsI sat smoking my pipe, like an innocent young chap, by the tap-roomfire, I'd hear some of the parties to the robbery, as they came in andout, say softly to the landlord, 'Who's that?. What does _he_ do here?''Bless your soul,' says the landlord, 'He's only a'--ha, ha, ha!--'he'sonly a green young fellow from the country, as is looking for abutcher's sitiwation. Don't mind _him_!' So, in course of time, theywere so convinced of my being green, and got to be so accustomed to me,that I was as free of the parlor as any of 'em, and I have seen as muchas Seventy Pounds worth of fine lawn sold there, in one night, that wasstolen from a warehouse in Friday Street. After the sale, the buyersalways stood treat--hot supper, or dinner, or what not--and they'd sayon those occasions 'Come on, Butcher! Put your best leg foremost, young'un, and walk into it!' Which I used to do--and hear, at table, allmanner of particulars that it was very important for us Detectives toknow.

  "This went on for ten weeks. I lived in the public-house all the time,and never was out of the Butcher's dress--except in bed. At last, when Ihad followed seven of the thieves, and set 'em to rights--that's anexpression of ours, don't you see, by which I mean to say that I traced'em, and found out where the robberies were done, and all about'em--Straw, and Fendall, and I, gave one another the office, and at atime agreed upon, a descent was made upon the public-house, and theapprehensions effected. One of the first things the officers did, was tocollar me--for the parties to the robbery weren't to suppose yet, that Iwas anything but a Butcher--on which the landlord cries out, 'Don't take_him_,' he says, 'whatever you do! He's only a poor young chap from thecountry, and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth!' However, they--ha, ha,ha!--they took me, and pretended to search my bedroom, where nothing wasfound but an old fiddle belonging to the landlord, that had got theresomehow or another. But, it entirely changed the landlord's opinion,for when it was produced, he says, 'My fiddle! The Butcher's apur-loiner! I give him into custody for the robbery of a musicalinstrument!'

  "The man that had stolen the goods in Friday Street was not taken yet.He had told me, in confidence, that he had his suspicions there wassomething wrong (on account of the City Police having captured one ofthe party), and that he was going to make himself scarce. I asked him,'Where do you mean to go, Mr. Shepherdson?' 'Why, Butcher,' says he,'the Setting Moon, in the Commercial Road, is a snug house, and I shallhang out there for a time. I shall call myself Simpson, which appears tome to be a modest sort of a name. Perhaps you'll give us a look in,Butcher?' 'Well,' says I, 'I think I _will_ give you a call'--which Ifully intended, don't you see, because, of course, he was to be taken! Iwent over to the Setting Moon next day, with a brother officer, andasked at the bar for Simpson. They pointed out his room up stairs. As wewere going up, he looks down over the banisters, and calls out, 'Halloa,Butcher! is that you?' 'Yes, it's me.' 'How do you find yourself?''Bobbish,' he says; 'but who's that with you?' 'It's only a young man,that's a friend of mine,' I says. 'Come along, then,' says he; 'anyfriend of the Butcher's is as welcome as the Butcher!' So, I made myfriend acquainted with him, and we took him into custody.

  "You have no idea, Sir, what a sight it was, in Court, when they
firstknew that I wasn't a Butcher, after all! I wasn't produced at the firstexamination, when there was a remand; but I was at the second. And whenI stepped into the box, in full police uniform, and the whole party sawhow they had been done, actually a groan of horror and dismay proceededfrom 'em in the dock!

  "At the Old Bailey, when their trials came on, Mr. Clarkson was engagedfor the defence, and he _couldn't_ make out how it was, about theButcher. He thought, all along, it was a real Butcher. When the counselfor the prosecution said, 'I will now call before you, gentlemen, thePolice-officer,' meaning myself, Mr. Clarkson says, 'Why Police-officer?Why more Police-officers? I dont't want Police. We have had a great dealtoo much of the Police. I want the Butcher! However, Sir, he had theButcher and the Police-officer, both in one. Out of seven prisonerscommitted for trial, five were found guilty, and some of 'em weretransported. The respectable firm, at the West End got a term ofimprisonment; and that's the Butcher's Story!"

  The story done, the chuckle-headed Butcher again resolved himself intothe smooth-faced Detective. But, he was so extremely tickled by theirhaving taken him about, when he was that Dragon in disguise, to show himLondon, that he could not help reverting to that point in his narrative;and gently repeating, with the Butcher's snigger, "'Oh, dear!' I says,'is that where they hang the men? Oh, Lor!' '_That!_' says they. 'What asimple cove he is!'"

  It being now late, and the party very modest in their fear of being toodiffuse, there were some tokens of separation; when Serjeant Dornton,the soldierly-looking man, said, looking round him with a smile:

  "Before we break up, Sir, perhaps you might have some amusement inhearing of the Adventures of a Carpet Bag. They are very short; and, Ithink, curious."

  We welcomed the Carpet Bag, as cordially as Mr Shepherdson welcomed thefalse Butcher at the Setting Moon. Serjeant Dornton proceeded:

  "In 1847, I was dispatched to Chatham, in search of one Mesheck, a Jew.He had been carrying on, pretty heavily, in the bill-stealing way,getting acceptances from young men of good connexions (in the armychiefly), on pretence of discount, and bolting with the same.

  "Mesheck was off, before I got to Chatham. All I could learn about himwas, that he had gone, probably to London, and had with him--a CarpetBag.

  "I came back to town, by the last train from Blackwall, and madeinquiries concerning a Jew passenger with--a Carpet Bag.

  "The office was shut up, it being the last train. There were only two orthree porters left. Looking after a Jew with a Carpet Bag, on theBlackwall Railway, which was then the high road to a great MilitaryDepot, was worse than looking after a needle in a hay-rick. But ithappened that one of these porters had carried, for a certain Jew, to acertain public-house, a certain--Carpet Bag.

  "I went to the public-house, but the Jew had only left his luggage therefor a few hours, and had called for it in a cab, and taken it away. Iput such questions there, and to the porter, as I thought prudent, andgot at this description of--the Carpet Bag.

  "It was a bag which had, on one side of it, worked in worsted, a greenparrot on a stand. A green parrot on a stand was the means by which toidentify that--Carpet Bag.

  "I traced Mesheck, by means of this green parrot on a stand toCheltenham, to Birmingham, to Liverpool, to the Atlantic Ocean. AtLiverpool he was too many for me. He had gone to the United States, andI gave up all thoughts of Mesheck, and likewise of his--Carpet Bag.

  "Many months afterwards--near a year afterwards--there was a Bank inIreland robbed of seven thousand pounds, by a person of the name ofDoctor Dundey, who escaped to America; from which country some of thestolen notes came home. He was supposed to have bought a farm in NewJersey. Under proper management, that estate could be seized and sold,for the benefit of the parties he had defrauded. I was sent off toAmerica for this purpose.

  "I landed at Boston. I went on to New York. I found that he had latelychanged New York paper-money for New Jersey paper-money, and had bankedcash in New Brunswick. To take this Doctor Dundey, it was necessary toentrap him into the State of New York, which required a deal of artificeand trouble. At one time, he couldn't be drawn into an appointment. Atanother time, he appointed to come to meet me, and a New York officer,on a pretext I made; and then his children had the measles. At last, hecame, per steamboat, and I took him, and lodged him in a New York Prisoncalled the Tombs; which I dare say you know, Sir?"

  Editorial acknowledgment to that effect.

  "I went to the Tombs, on the morning after his capture, to attend theexamination before the magistrate. I was passing through themagistrate's private room, when, happening to look round me to takenotice of the place, as we generally have a habit of doing, I clapped myeyes, in one corner, on a--Carpet Bag.

  "What did I see upon that Carpet Bag, if you'll believe me, but a greenparrot on a stand, as large as life!

  "'That Carpet Bag, with the representation of a green parrot on astand,' said I, 'belongs to an English Jew, named Aaron Mesheck, and tono other man alive or dead!'

  "I give you my word the New York Police officers were doubled up withsurprise.

  "'How do you ever come to know that?' said they.

  "'I think I ought to know that green parrot by this time,' said I, 'forI have had as pretty a dance after that bird, at home, as ever I had, inall my life!'"

  "And _was_ it Mesheck's?" we submissively inquired.

  "Was it, Sir? Of course it was! He was in custody for another offence,in that very identical Tombs, at that very identical time. And, morethan that! Some memoranda, relating to the fraud for which I had vainlyendeavored to take him, were found to be, at that moment, lying in thatvery same individual--Carpet Bag!"

  Such are the curious coincidences and such is the peculiar ability,always sharpening and being improved by practice, and always adaptingitself to every variety of circumstances, and opposing itself to everynew device that perverted ingenuity can invent, for which this importantsocial branch of the public service is remarkable! For ever on thewatch, with their wits stretched to the utmost, these officers have,from day to day and year to year, to set themselves against everynovelty of trickery and dexterity that the combined imaginations of allthe lawless rascals in England can devise, and to keep pace with everysuch invention that comes out. In the Courts of Justice, the materialsof thousands of such stories as we have narrated--often elevated intothe marvellous and romantic, by the circumstances of the case--are drylycompressed into the set phrase, "in consequence of information Ireceived, I did so and so." Suspicion was to be directed, by carefulinference and deduction, upon the right person; the right person was tobe taken, wherever he had gone, or whatever he was doing to avoiddetection: he is taken; there he is at the bar; that is enough. Frominformation I, the officer, received, I did it; and, according to thecustom in these cases, I say no more.

  These games of chess, played with live pieces, are played before smallaudiences, and are chronicled nowhere. The interest of the game supportsthe player. Its results are enough for Justice. To compare great thingswith small, suppose LEVERRIER or ADAMS informing the public that frominformation he had received he had discovered a new planet; or COLUMBUSinforming the public of his day that from information he had received,he had discovered a new continent; so the Detectives inform it that theyhave discovered a new fraud or an old offender, and the process isunknown.

  Thus, at midnight, closed the proceedings of our curious and interestingparty. But one other circumstance finally wound up the evening, afterour Detective guests had left us. One of the sharpest among them, andthe officer best acquainted with the Swell Mob, had his pocket picked,going home!