and children; he never blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French
lady with fluffy hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted
work, honest work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would
build up a home" for his wife and children.

I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, and he
talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard work, and I
befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked for more! He was
a citizen of the world, and spoke more than one language. Our
companionship continued for some months, and then my friend and myself
had to sever our connection.

He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a large
scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I think, almost
unequalled!

They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them most
expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods against
burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, realised the
insurance, and then vanished to repeat their proceedings elsewhere.

So clever were they at the business that costly but portable goods were
freely submitted to their tender mercies. They invariably engaged rooms
that possessed a "skylight." It was my friend's business to do the
burgling, and this he did by carefully removing the glass from the
skylight, being careful not to break it; needless to say, he removed
the glass from the inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the
valuables making their exit through the room door and down the staircase
in broad daylight.

My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I understood,
sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond dispute the proceeds
of some of his "firm's" operations. This game went on for a time, the
Parisian lady with the false hair being one of the confederates. He
disappeared, however, and I am glad to think that for some considerable
time society will be safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair,
and the operations of a clever scoundrel.

I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances who
have seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion of
the whole. Generally they have, I believe, been animated with good
intentions, though the failure to carry them out has frequently been
manifest and deplorable.

I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than
absolute wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's experie