ity of Lille, and is well
authenticated in the northern districts, where many persons yet remember
to have seen the hero of this tale, who was thence called Manchot,
(or one-armed,) executed.

[Vidocq at length escapes, quits Lille, and flies to Ostend, where he
joins a crew of smugglers.]

It was with real repugnance that I went to the house of a man named
Peters, to whom I was directed, as one deeply engaged in the pursuit,
and able to introduce me to it. A sea-gull nailed on his door with
extended wings, like the owls and weasels that we see on barns, guided
me. I found the worthy in a sort of cellar, which by the ropes, sails,
oars, hammocks, and barrels which filled it, might have been taken
for a naval depot. From the midst of a thick atmosphere of smoke which
surrounded him, he viewed me at first with a contempt which had not
a good appearance, and my conjectures were soon realized, for I had
scarcely offered my services than he fell upon me with a shower of
blows. I could certainly have resisted him effectually, but astonishment
had in a measure deprived me of the power of defence; and I saw besides,
in the court-yard, half-a-dozen sailors and an enormous Newfoundland
dog, which would have been powerful odds. Turned into the street, I
endeavoured to account for this singular reception, when it occurred to
me that Peters had mistaken me for a spy, and treated me accordingly.

This idea determined me on returning to a dealer in hollands, who
had told me of him, and he, laughing at the results of my visit,
gave me a pass-word that would procure me free access to Peters.--[He
succeeds.]--I slept at Peters's house with a dozen or fifteen smugglers,
Dutch, Danish, Swedish, Portuguese, and Russian; there were no
Englishmen, and only two Frenchmen. The day after my installation, as
we were all getting into our hammocks, or flock beds, Peters entered
suddenly into our chamber, which was only a cellar contiguous to his
own, and so filled with barrels and kegs, that we could scarcely find
room to sling our hammocks. Peters had put off his usual attire, which
was that of ship-caulker, or sail-maker, and had on a hairy cap, and a
long red shirt, closed at the breast with a silver pin, fire-arms in his
belt, and a pair of thick large, fisherman's boots, which reach the top
of the thigh, or may be folded down beneath the knee.

"A-hoy! a-hoy!" cried he, at the door, striking the ground with the butt
end of his carbine! "do