Known to the Police

by Thomas Holmes

CHAPTER II SOME BURGLARS I HAVE MET

The common London burglar is by no means a formidable fellow. Speaking generally, there is nothing of Bill Sikes about him, for he has not much stature, strength, courage, or brains. Most of those that I have met have been poor specimens of manhood, ready alike to surrender to a self-possessed woman or to a young policeman. Idle, worthless fellows, who, having no regular work to do, and being quite indifferent as to what happens to them, often attempt burglary, but of the crudest description.

These young fellows evince no skill, exhibit little daring, and when caught show about as much pluck as a guinea-pig. For them one may feel contempt, but contempt must be tempered by pity. Circumstances have been against them. Underfed and undersized, of little intelligence, with no moral consciousness, they are a by-product of our civilization, a direct product of our slum-life. If caught young and given some years' manual training and technical education, together with manly recreation and some share in competitive games, many of them would go straight on their release, provided a reasonable start in life were given them.

Idle liberty is dangerous to young men who have no desire for wrong-doing, but who at the same time have little aspiration for right-doing. Our prisons are crowded with them, and a series of short imprisonments only serves to harden them, until they become confirmed but clumsy criminals. But real burglars are men of different stamp, and, if I may be pardoned, men of better metal, for at any rate they possess nerve, brain, and grit. They may be divided into two classes: first, the men who are at war with society, who live by plunder, and who mean to live by plunder, who often show marvellous skill, energy, presence of mind, and pluck; secondly, men who, having once engaged in burglary, find it so thrilling that no other pleasure, passion, or sport has to them one tithe of the joy and glamour that a midnight raid presents. Let me give you one example of the former.

A well-dressed gentleman—frock-coat, silk hat, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, etc.—took a house in a swell neighbourhood at £120 a year rental. His references were to all appearances undeniable; his manner, speech, and bearing were beyond reproach; so he obtained a lease of the premises, and entered into possession. His next step was to call on the local superintendent of the police and give him his address, asking also that the police might keep a watchful eye upon the house till he took up his residence in it. He was, he said, a practical consulting and analytical chemist; he was fitting up an expensive laboratory on the premises, and a good many things of value to him would be sent to the house. He himself would be there during the day, but he would be grateful if the police would, when on their beat at night, sometimes see that all was right. The police were charmed with him. He was a small man, about 5 feet 4 inches in height. The same night a mean-looking little man was converted at an open-air meeting of the Salvation Army. He wished for lodgings for a time, that he might be shielded from temptation, for which he was prepared to pay. So he went to lodge with the officer in command, and donned a red guernsey. He was employed on night-work, he told his landlady, but sometimes he had to go away for a day or two. His friends were well pleased with him; his conversion seemed genuine, and he gave but little trouble. Meanwhile, at the large house close by consignments of goods were, constantly arriving, and sometimes the frock-coated gentleman showed himself to the police. For many weeks this went on, till one day the convert was missing from his lodging. He did not return the next day, nor the day after that. They were anxious about him; they were poor, too, and he owed money. But they could get no tidings of him. Thinking something might have happened to him by way of accident, they went to the police-station to inquire. A keen detective heard their inquiry, and kept his own counsel; but next morning he went to the remand prison, and sure enough he found the missing man there among the prisoners. He had been arrested for "failing to report." He was on "ticket-of-leave," and had to report himself once a month to the police. Either his religious emotion or the interest of his night employment had caused him to neglect this trivial matter.

About this time the consulting and analytical chemist disappeared, and no more consignments of goods for the laboratory arrived. The little convert was once more remanded, for the magistrate and the police wanted to know what he had been doing. The police, too, had been keeping an eye on the big house; they thought, too, that something had happened to the chemist, so they forced the door and entered. It was verily a robbers' cave they found. No trace of scientific implements, except burglars' tools, no trace of chemicals or laboratory; but they found the proceeds of many clever burglaries that had been committed in various parts of London. The chemist and the convert were one; their identity was established. When I spoke to him in the cells, he called himself an "ass" for failing to report himself to the police. "If it had not been for that, I should have been all right," he said.

In a previous book I have given at some length my experiences of a burglar who is a living example of the second class; but I have something to add to the story, for since "Pictures and Problems" was issued his fifth term of penal servitude terminated, and the man came back to me.

Twice had I given him a good start in life, for he was both clever and industrious, and in many respects honest. I do not think he would have cheated anyone, and I know that he would have scorned to pick anyone's pocket. I had twice previously set him up in his business—bookbinding. Twice had he appeared to be on the way to thorough reformation of character and good social standing; but twice, when things were prospering with him, and when he had acquired plenty of good clothing, etc., and had saved at least £10, had he lapsed into burglary, with the inevitable result—he was caught. Well under fifty years of age, yet his accumulated sentences amounted to nearly forty years; but it must be borne in mind that one-fourth of the time he had been on "ticket-of-leave," for he behaved well in prison, and obtained every possible mark for good conduct, etc. I had not expected to see any more of him, for I knew that he had heart trouble, and, moreover, had been ill in prison. The officials had, however, taken good care of him, and during the months previous to his discharge he had been an occupant of the prison hospital. He appeared to be in fair health. The hair on his head had been allowed to grow; he had been decently shaved. His clothing, however, betrayed him, for there was no mistaking it.

He had earned £6 in prison, which sum had been placed with the Church Army for his benefit. Neither the Church Army nor the Salvation Army could find or give him any employment, and the £6 was soon spent. I saw much of him, and watched him closely, for he interested me. When he was quite penniless and apparently hopeless, I obtained work for him with a local tradesman, for which he was to receive £1 weekly, but was required to do a certain amount of work every day; for I was anxious for him to have regular work, and to be able to earn sufficient for his need, but no more. I also agreed to find or procure sufficient work to keep him going. This arrangement seemed likely to prosper, and I felt some hope. There was no sign of repentance to be observed in him, neither was he in the least ashamed of his past; indeed, he seemed to think, like a good many other ex-convicts, that it was the duty of the community to help him and compensate him for the years he had spent in prison. I soon had cause for suspicion, but kept silent, till one day I saw him with something that he could not possibly have purchased. I told him that I should warn the police. He did not deny the impeachment, but he wanted to argue the matter, and seemed to believe that in some way or other his conduct was justifiable.