But to know where the key was kept and to obtain possession of it were very different things, and Agar, according to his own story, was much disheartened. Not so Pierce. Pierce knew a man named Tester who was in the office of the Superintendent of Traffic, and Tester could get possession of the keys for them. However, time rolls on, and we are in August, when Pierce discovers that the locks are to be altered, and that the new keys will be in Tester’s hands. Tester was the clerk who corresponded with Mr. Chubb on the subject of the alterations, and by his means the impression of a key which opened one lock of each box was obtained.
But as each box had two locks it was necessary to obtain the impression of another key, and the following device was adopted: Agar was in possession of no less a sum than £3,000. It was arranged that a box of bullion of the value of two hundred pounds should be conveyed in the iron safe in the usual way, and that it should be delivered to him under the name of Archer.
Agar goes for the box, and it is delivered to him by Chapman, who opens the safe with a key which he takes from a cupboard. Thus Agar learns where the second key is kept. Now, how are they to obtain an impression of the key? Two months have elapsed since they got the impression of key No. 1. This is October, and they are still without No. 2. But they are not disheartened. Pierce and Agar go to Dover, and put up at the ‘Dover Castle;’ they walk over to Folkestone, and arrive just when the train is coming in. In the confusion of an arrival the attendants leave the office for a few minutes. Pierce goes boldly in, opens the cupboard which contains the key of the iron safe, hands it to Agar, who takes an impression, and then replaces it. Thus five months after their reconnoissance at Folkestone they have surmounted the first difficulty which suggested itself to the reflective mind of Agar. They have obtained wax impressions of the keys; everything else remains to be done.
The next thing, of course, was to make keys from the impressions. For that purpose lodgings are taken in Lambeth and Kennington. Pierce disguises himself in a black wig, and the next two months are spent in filing keys. When the keys were completed to a probable similarity with the rough wax impressions—no easy task, it would seem, for two inexpert operators with common files—it was necessary to try them. Agar went down several times in the van with Burgess, the guard. They did not fit at first, but they fitted more nearly every time he went. At last they fitted completely, and the deed was resolved on. Of course, after nearly a year’s labour, it was not worth their while to fly at any paltry game—they would wait till a large sum was to be sent. Two chests would hold about £12,000, and they heard that £12,000 was shortly to be sent.
They then buy shot to replace the gold. Agar and Pierce are admitted into the van by Burgess, and on May 15, 1855, twelve months after the deed was planned, the boxes of Messrs. Spielman, Bult, and Abell are securely rifled. Nineteen months after the crime was committed, and more than two years and a half after it was planned, justice overtook the delinquents. No sentence was passed upon the informer Agar, who was remitted back to prison under the sentence he had incurred by an act of forgery; but Burgess and Tester were sentenced to transportation for fourteen years, while Pierce, through a technicality, got off with only two years’ imprisonment: and so ends this romantic case.
One of the convicts, I have heard, has been of some use to the police, for, like many other convicted thieves, he has been communicative, and at least one improvement in lock-making has resulted from this man’s suggestions.
Though a robbery so patiently planned, so quietly carried out, and with such a successful result, is rare; yet we still hear of instances wherein the same forethought and misguided talent are shown.
The dark autumn and winter evenings have latterly been chosen for the commission of what are earning a separate name, so numerous have they become—‘Jewel Robberies.’ At the West End of London and the fashionable suburbs there have been numerous cases in which the thieves wait till the inhabitants are assembled at dinner—having possibly left some of their jewellery lying about on dressing-tables—and by entering through a window the burglars are able to make a successful haul. Either in this manner or by an ordinary night burglary much of the plate and jewellery is stolen with comparatively slight risk of discovery. The residences of Sir F. Peel, the Dowager Marchioness of Cholmondeley, the Countess Waldegrave, the Countess of Donoughmore, and many other noticeable personages have recently suffered from these unwelcome visits.
The following notice, issued some time ago, I have Colonel Fraser’s permission to republish. It very clearly shows the responsibilities resting with both the police and the public of large towns. If householders would but perform their part as well as the police do in this matter, robbery of the kind indicated would be of the rarest occurrence:—
POLICE NOTICE.