Of course, they could not go by their own names. Bullard called himself Charles Wells, and Adam Worth took the name of Harry Raymond. He made it notorious before he finished with it.
The two American crooks put up at one of the best hotels in Liverpool, intending to take things lazily for a few weeks, but Adam Worth's restless nature would not permit him to keep his hands off other people's property even when he was possessed of forty thousand pounds—his share, after expenses had been paid, of the raid on the bank at Boston. His confederate fell in love with a barmaid at the hotel, and spent most of his time in her company, leaving Worth to wander about the city, ever on the look out for a likely crib to crack.
It was typical of the man that he should regard Charles Bullard's love-making with contempt, because it caused him to neglect business. Bullard could see no reason why they should take any more risks until their money was gone, but Worth looked upon crime as a profession which must be pursued day after day, no matter how large the profits. Anyhow, he left Bullard to himself. Whenever possible Worth preferred to work on his own, for that meant more for him.
At last he found what he wanted. There was a pawnbroker's shop in one of the principal streets of the city which, judging by its window display, must be bulging with jewellery. Adam Worth decided to burgle it, and to secure a wax impression of the key of the front door he called three times within a fortnight to pawn certain articles. He was disguised, of course, for he had to engage the pawnbroker in conversation in order to get an opportunity to press the bit of wax concealed in his left palm against the key, which the pawnbroker sometimes left lying on his counter. On the occasion of his third visit Worth secured the right impression and it cost the unfortunate tradesman twenty-five thousand pounds, for that was the value of the goods missing when he arrived at his establishment one morning and found that it had been entered the previous night.
Worth now decided to visit London. Liverpool was not big enough for a man of his capacity, and, in addition, he was growing rather tired of Bullard, who had married the beautiful barmaid. He advised the newly-married pair to make Paris their headquarters, and they took his advice. Then Worth came to London and rented a costly flat in the centre of Piccadilly. He had now over sixty thousand pounds in hand, all of which he devoted to his profession.
His flat became a regular meeting-place for all the noted thieves of England and the Continent, as well as those select crooks who came from America to interview the greatest of them all. Worth had his own staff of well-trained servants, all of whom could be trusted, and with his large funds he was always in a position to finance any big job. Thieves came to him for advice and help. Was there a bank official to be bribed or a skeleton key to be made? Adam Worth solved both problems. Did a particular job require the services of an expert burglar or forger? Adam Worth had a large supply of either on hand. He knew where to find the right man for every job, and in return for his services he received a goodly percentage of the profits.
The London police were amazed at the long series of burglaries which began with Adam Worth's arrival in London. Each one of them was carried out so neatly that they were plainly the work of a master. But who was the master? Could it be possible that the American gentleman who lived such an open life in the very centre of fashionable London was actually the leader of a gang of burglars? If he was, surely one of his gang would betray him? The police could obtain no proof, and Adam Worth kept them so busy investigating his depredations that they had very little time to devote to his personality.
He planned the robbery of the French mail between Boulogne and Folkestone that resulted in a loss to the Post Office of thirty thousand pounds. Adam Worth provided keys to fit the vans and the boxes containing the registered parcels, and on another occasion actually sent a couple of expert train thieves down to Dover with an exact duplicate of the registered mail bag, everything being on a par with the original, even to the minute figures on the seal. That robbery brought in about twenty thousand pounds, and it was only one of many. Indeed, every case Adam Worth touched turned to gold. Everybody who knew him regarded him as their mascot, and his own personality did the rest.
He was generous to his followers in good and bad times. When any of them were down on their luck they came to Worth, and were helped with presents of money running into hundreds of pounds. In this way he bought them body and soul, keeping a register of their names and abilities, and calling them up for active service when he required them.
All this went on from that luxurious flat in Piccadilly. Now and then Adam Worth took a trip abroad, intending to rest, but he always came back to London with more money than he had gone away with. It was quite impossible for him to resist temptation.