Of all the more hazardous--though thoroughly romantic--professions,
none is more interesting than that of burgling. The art of burgling and
housebreaking has positively developed into a fine art, and, although
we do not admire the members of the craft, yet every individual
representative of it is undeniably interesting. There is something
irresistibly tantalizing, yet at the same time fascinating, about your
average burglar. Those of nervous temperament may look under their
beds for a whole twelvemonth--from the 1st of January to the 31st of
December. But he is never there. He is a playful fellow--a merry man;
he likes his joke, for on the very night you forget to peep under the
couch where Morpheus receives you for a few hours, he is bound to be
there, and the next morning you find all your drawers ransacked. At
first you put it down to the dog, but when you discover that something
like a cart-load of valuables has disappeared, you come to the
conclusion that no representative of the canine world who ever barked
or picked an honest bone could possibly help himself so freely and with
so liberal a hand.
The New Scotland Yard Museum will provide much practical information on
the ways and means which our friend the enemy utilizes for the purpose
of thus annoying you. Your enterprising burglar shall have what he
thoroughly deserves--a complete chapter to himself, and illustrated
with his own weapons of warfare into the bargain. Not that we expect
that he will be much gratified at the publicity here given to his
methods--a publicity which is all to the advantage of his enemy, the
householder, for whom to be forewarned is to be forearmed.
Our burglar friends may find a grain of comfort in this fact--that we
frankly acknowledge that it is impossible for us to give them as much
space in these pages as their unquestionable genius deserves. They are
really too inventive--too enterprising. Still, the exhibits in the
museum will be of considerable help. The exhibits here comprise samples
of probably every tool used in the pursuit of this profession. It has
always been an open question as to where burglars and housebreakers
obtain their tools. Some three or four years ago it was stated at the
Dalston Police Court that one man makes all the burglars' "jemmies" in
London, and further that the police knew the man well, were on familiar
terms with his own particular trade, but there was positively no law by
which he could be arrested or stopped.
[Illustration: SAFE-BREAKER'S OUTFIT.]
[Illustration: BURGLARS' LANTERNS.]
Again, a burglar--who was the terror of Birmingham for many years, and
who had done fourteen years' penal servitude for burglary and attempted
murder--was of the decided opinion that more tools were manufactured
in Birmingham than in any town in the country, while the greatest
"authority" on burglars' tools in general, and "jemmies" in particular,
was the famous American bank burglar, Adams, whose instruments were
treasured and preserved at the New York police headquarters. It is
probable, however, that most instruments are home-made, or manufactured
by an honest--in a strictly burglarian sense--blacksmith.
The first object of housebreaking curiosity you meet with at the
New Scotland Yard Black Museum is a complete safe-breaker's outfit,
collected at different times by Superintendent Shore, and most
artistically set out on a board covered with red baize. The dark
lantern is in the centre, the steel jemmy surmounts the whole, running
in a symmetrically decorative line along the top, and amongst the
various items one notices the prising instrument, steel wedges, wood
used for obtaining leverage, delicately constructed saws, files, and a
box of Graduated Schultz powder, the latter explosive being used for
blowing in a lock when the place where the safe is situated is left
totally unattended, and there is no fear of the explosion acting as an
alarum.
[Illustration: KEY-HOLE LANTERNS.]
Burglars' lanterns vary in size--they are known as "darkeys" in the
profession--the better class of lantern now in use being of the police
pattern; a trifle bulky, perhaps, but nevertheless being very reliable,
seeing that they are similar to those of Government make. The group
of lanterns at the museum may have cost anything between fourpence
and a shilling each, certainly no more. Their owners invariably carry
them away, unless disturbed, when they are left behind as a legacy.
The police seldom attach any importance to the finding of a lantern.
Yet one or two of them are ingeniously made. Here is one made out of a
Bryant and May's match-box. A handle has been put on to the box proper
and a space made for the light to come through, so as to be easily
covered with the thumb. Such a lantern as this would be used when using
a small jemmy. Its companions have a light-hole even smaller still.
They are ordinary lanterns with the glass taken out, a piece of tin
inserted, and a hole made only just of sufficient size to allow enough
light to pick a key-hole. Perhaps, however, the most ingenious of
them all is a small bottle containing a tiny piece of phosphorus. Our
friend--once the owner of this highly interesting relic--merely had to
"shake the bottle," when, lo and behold! he had all the light he needed
on that very useful subject for operating upon--the key-hole.
[Illustration: A PHOSPHORUS LANTERN.]
There is one other method of gaining light. This is by means of a piece
of wax candle stuck in a square bit of yellow soap.
Perhaps the jemmy is the most popular burglar's tool with which the
public are on disagreeably familiar terms. They can supply you with any
size at New Scotland Yard. Here you have a pretty little group of eight
large "jemmies"--all of which are used for safe-breaking purposes.
They are all made of the best steel. This extra long one--it measures
3ft.--is called "The Lord Mayor," whilst its two next sized ones are
dubbed "The Alderman" and "Common Councilman." It is a significant
fact, which has never been satisfactorily explained, that the members
of the fraternity of which we are now treating go to the City for
names for their jemmies. Possibly some of them may have uncomfortable
recollections of the Mansion House, and thus take revenge on the Lord
Mayor and his colleagues by using them--in the shape of jemmies--for
burglarious purposes!
[Illustration: EIGHT LARGE JEMMIES]
The smaller jemmies are for housebreaking. One of these--made out of an
old file--is robed in a cloth case; another unscrews in the centre, so
as to be more readily carried. Another is a packing-case opener, such
as is used in Covent Garden every day for prising open boxes of fruit.
Many are the ways adopted for carrying these. It is generally believed
by the authorities that in the conveying of burglars' tools cabmen are
often in league with the offending parties. A cabman going through the
streets at night can jog along unnoticed, especially if a lady and
gentleman in evening dress are inside.
There is a record at New Scotland Yard of a burglar stealing a
four-wheeler from a rank and driving the cab himself, with a friend
inside with the tools. Tools have been carried in hat-boxes,
carpenters' baskets, and even in a silk hat on the head. Peace, the
king of all burglars, frequently carried the implements of his craft
in a violin case--but of this worthy more anon. The general rule is to
carry jemmies down the leg of the trousers or up the sleeve; whilst
other tools are smuggled into long pockets of the "rabbit" pattern,
such as used by the old-time poachers.
Perhaps the most remarkable place in which a burglar carried his tools
was a euphonium! However, he succeeded in passing through the City as a
"wait," and made a fairly good profit out of the night's proceedings.
It is not on record whether the constable on point wished him "a merry
Christmas" or not.
We are inclined to tell a story which we have every reason to believe
to be perfectly true. It was told to the writer by a burglar. The
burglar stated that in country "affairs" it is always deemed wise to
hide the tools to be used somewhere near to the spot to be operated
upon, and not to carry them about the person. He had hidden his tools
in a hedge in the morning. When he arrived in the afternoon to get
them--previous to setting out for the scene of the burglary--he found
them gone. Whilst hunting around, he noticed some children romping
about in an adjoining field. One little bright-eyed lassie saw him,
and leaving her companions, ran up to him and said, in childlike way:
"Please, sir, I've found this." "This" was the burglar's tools tied up
in a piece of black cloth. The little girl was rewarded with sixpence.
Of skeleton keys there is a very admirable selection at New Scotland
Yard. They are made both of iron and steel--mostly of scrap-iron, as it
is tougher and has no grain in it. Burglars and housebreakers usually
make their own skeleton keys--some of which are very rough. The key is
bought in the block, and the wards are cut out as needed. Those shown
are of two kinds. The bunch consists of "pick-locks," which are made
of stout wire. A housebreaker has been caught with as many as thirty
of these pick-locks in his possession. For larger locks, the keys are
much stronger. This pretty little cloth case was found on a gentleman.
These would be used for opening heavy doors. Of those shown it will be
noticed that all save two are made with the wards to both ends. There
can be no doubt as to the efficacy of skeleton keys, and lever locks
are strongly recommended to the wise, as it would be impossible to open
one with a "skeleton."
[Illustration: SKELETON KEYS.]
We now come to the wedges--apparently very small, but incalculably
important items in the particular branch of art with which we are
now dealing. Wedges may be either of wood or steel, and are used for
driving under doors whilst working in a room. They are usually held
tight to the floor by a gimlet, so that if the housebreakers were
disturbed and an attempt was made to open the door, the more the
opposing party was to push outside, the tighter the door would be held.
The only hope would be to force the door and the thieves in nine cases
out of ten would have ample opportunity to get away.
You may find at Scotland Yard the mahogany leg of a parlour chair,
with a number of wedges by its side, which tells a story of ingenuity
as clever as anything of its kind ever conceived by any novelist.
More than that, it reflects the greatest credit upon the skill of
our detectives and police officials. These simple, harmless-looking
little wedges were quite sufficient to get three men twenty years'
penal servitude for burglary. It was in 1875. A number of burglaries
were committed in a certain district in London. The almost invariably
careful perpetrators were foolish on these particular occasions, for
they left their wedges behind them. These were, however, treasured by
the police. When the men were eventually arrested, it was found that
a chair at their lodgings was minus a leg, and when the wedges were
pieced together--hey, presto! here was the mahogany leg! There are
other exhibits at New Scotland Yard equally interesting--simple little
items which tell a big story and carry with them heavy punishments.
In a case is a group of articles comprising a number of bullets, a
wooden wedge, a truncheon case--showing bullet marks--a soft black
felt hat, and two chisels. Above the case is an enlarged photo of one
of the chisels. They are relics of the murder of Police-constable
Cole, on December 1, 1882, by Thomas Henry Orrocks. Orrocks left
behind him, in a turning out of Dalston Lane, where the affray took
place, the old hat, the wooden wedge, and the two chisels. He was
suspected. The discovery was made that he had been practising with
a revolver at Tottenham Marshes, and a bullet found in a tree there
was identical with those found in the constable's truncheon case. But
the most convincing evidence was the fact that when the chisels were
photographed the word "Rock" was found scratched near the handle. It is
a fact, not generally known, that photography can render visible what
the eye is quite unable to discern. It was sufficient to hang Thomas
Henry Orrocks.
[Illustration: WEDGES MADE FROM CHAIR-LEG.]
[Illustration: RELICS OF THE ORROCKS CASE.]
Perhaps, however, the button incident is the prettiest of all. What a
warning to burglars! The relics consist of an old black overcoat with
a broken bone button. The piece broken off is carefully preserved in
a small wooden box. In January, 1874, a burglary was committed in the
vicinity of Westminster. A little piece of freshly broken off bone
button was foolishly left on the window-sill. This the police kindly
and considerately took charge of. A man was suspected, but there was
no evidence against him to justify an arrest. But an enterprising
police-officer clung to that bit of button, and one night he chanced to
come across a gentleman with a button that had a piece missing.
[Illustration: A CONVICTING CHISEL.]
"Halloa!" he exclaimed, "button broken, eh?"
"Yes," replied the proprietor of the old black overcoat, "I've lost it.
I don't know where it is."
"I know," said the calculating detective. "Here it is! Why, bless me,
it just fits, my friend!"
Some of the stolen property was found in his pockets. The cap--we mean
the button--fitted. He got three years!
[Illustration: THE BROKEN BUTTON.]
Amongst the miscellaneous exhibits at the New Yard is a piece of wood
cut out of a stable door at Kensington. It is thick and bulky; would
take ten minutes or a quarter of an hour to cut; and is a good example
of the work done with the ordinary stock and centre-bit. It is of
sufficient size to allow the hand and arm to go through comfortably,
so that the bolt of the door may be drawn back. An artist's palette
knife is by its side, which is used for opening window sashes. If your
housebreaker found that he had to deal with a patent lock, he would
cut the window pane, by placing brown paper over the glass and working
over that, so that no noise is made. But it may be mentioned that this
is rarely done now, as an entrance is usually effected through the
front door or trap-door in the roof. It is a long time since the police
have had a case, however, where the panel of a door has been cut, as
it would too readily betray the operation to the passer-by; the more
familiar method adopted now is to work through an empty house, and so
gain an entrance.
[Illustration: CANDLES, PIECE CUT OUT OF DOOR, AND PALETTE KNIFE.]
An illustration is given of a lock of a safe cut away by a ratchet.
It is an ordinary ratchet about 2ft. long. It is in reality a common
workman's tool, and is used every day on palings in the streets. Such
an article as this is bought in any ironmonger's shop. No up-to-date
safe-breaker would ever think of using such a tool as this. The
instrument for cutting through shutters is rather more ingenious. This
is evidently a home-made tool. It is a steel-cutter, and can be made
any size by moving the centre-bit. A knife is at each end, being kept
in position by a long screw. A hole is made in the shutter first,
the graduated screw is inserted, and, as this is driven in, so the
knives cut their way. It is surmised that this shutter cutter was not
found to answer the purpose for which it was intended, as it is the
only one ever found by the police. The other specimen is for wooden
shutters--the tridents being so made that whilst one cuts the other
scoops out.
[Illustration: SAFE-LOCK CUT WITH RATCHET.]
The collection of revolvers is unique in its way, and they are arranged
about the walls of the museum with a decided eye to effect. They
comprise weapons of every type and pattern. The two specially selected
which appear above a very formidable dagger, evidently of Eastern
manufacture--have their own peculiar history. The small one is the
centre of attraction amongst a strange group of relics, consisting of
a pair of links, the clasp of a purse, a little piece of steel which
fitted inside a bracelet, and even a piece of a heel-tip. The heel-tip
corresponded with the footprints of a suspected man, and, together with
the remains of the trinkets, helped to bring a verdict of "Guilty." All
these are associated with the Muswell Hill burglary in January, 1889.
The revolver was used by one of three men--who were all subsequently
sentenced to penal servitude for life--for shooting at Mr. Atkins.
[Illustration: SHUTTER-CUTTER.]
The larger revolver--which has an exceptionally heavy central
fire--belonged to a top-hat shooter. On July 18th, 1884, a burglary
was attempted at Hoxton. The police chased the burglars over the
roofs of the houses, and a worthy named Wright, who had attempted to
make himself look highly respectable in a silk hat, amused himself by
clinging to a chimney-pot with one arm and using the other to practise
firing with--the targets being the constables. Mr. Wright is not likely
to play at this very risky pastime again. He is Her Majesty's guest
for life in a palatial residence specially constructed for dispensing
hospitality to such gentlemen.
[Illustration: REVOLVERS AND DAGGER]
The life-preservers are interesting. They hang in a delicious group
just by the window. They are of all sorts and sizes. One swings on a
piece of thick cord heavily loaded; another is made of rhinoceros hide.
A pretty little invention in these specialities doubles up and fits the
waistcoat pocket, the more popular example being made out of a piece
of cord twisted round a short cane with a lead shot at both ends. The
life-preservers have a curious companion--a pair of coverings, very
rudely made out of coarse linen, for the feet, which the burglar puts
over his boots out of thoughtful consideration for the slumbers of his
victims.
[Illustration: LIFE-PRESERVERS AND BOOT COVERS.]
[Illustration: THE NEW NORTH ROAD MASK.]
The disguises used--and treasured at New Scotland Yard--chiefly
consist of false whiskers and beards. They are all made of dark crêpe
hair and fastened to wires, which fit over the ear and keep them in
position. The most original idea for concealing the face, however,
is given a prominent place near the board on which are arranged the
before-mentioned complete set of tools. It consists of a hard, black
hat, attached to which is a piece of black American cloth with openings
to give sight, cut very much to the size of old-fashioned goggles. This
is fastened round the chin with a piece of cord.
[Illustration: BEARDS, WHISKERS, ETC.]
[Illustration: WIRE, STRING, JEMMY, SCREWS, WEDGES AND SOCKS OF PORTICO
THIEVES.]
Its wearer was a most unfortunate individual, and there is every
reason to believe that he has the warm sympathy of all his brother
professionals. He was "specially engaged" on a public-house in the New
North Road after closing time. He was found under a bed, and hurried
to get away, being most determinedly chased by the energetic landlord.
The owner of the black billycock, fancying he saw a means of escape,
made for a window. But his patent hat and face protector served him a
shabby trick. The man only saw a window and not the iron bars, between
a couple of which his head lodged as though specially designed for the
purpose.
[Illustration: PEACE'S LADDER.]
The landlord--who was fortunately blessed with a delightfully humorous
disposition--prodded the "bar" lodger with a sword-stick. The poor
prodded one assisted his captor by yelling for the police himself! Five
years.
[Illustration: SLIDING LADDER AND ROPE LADDER.]
We now come to the most artistic kind of burglar--the portico thief,
the man who goes in for great things in the way of jewellery. There
are many exhibits at the museum used in this special branch of
burglary--rope ladders, treadles, strings, coils of copper wire,
gimlets, wedges, woollen stockings to go over boots, etc. The rope
ladders, known as "slings," are often 25ft. and 30ft. long, and are
made with rope treads just sufficient to put the foot in. A hook is at
the end, which is lodged on some convenient support strong enough to
hold the weight of the man ascending. They are generally carried by
winding them about the body.
[Illustration: PEACE'S OUTFIT.]
The wire, string, wedges, socks, etc., in the illustration were found
at Ealing when the men escaped. They had "wired" the house and grounds
all over. This is done in order that, if they are chased, the wires,
which are placed at ankle height, trip the pursuer up, the thieves
themselves knowing of their whereabouts by putting a piece of white
paper in their immediate vicinity.
These are the simple appliances of your truly artistic burglar--the
man who has been laying his plans for months, the individual who will
pay a hundred visits to the house before he brings about his grand
_coup_, who will know the value of every piece of jewellery the ladies
are wearing at the dinner-table, and be fully aware of the exact place
where to lay his wily fingers on them in the dressing-room.
This is the class of men who are the greatest trouble to the
police--these are the best customers of the receivers. Frequently a man
is employed to do all the planning and mapping out for the party who
will do the actual job. For this he is paid a certain price or perhaps
a commission on the results of the robbery. This person will draw up
a plan of the house as true--though perhaps not quite as artistic--as
any architect. But he gives the thief the very information he needs,
and puts on the map of the house and grounds the exact position where
the operator must "beware of the dog." A man named Connor is credited
at New Scotland Yard with being one of the finest adepts at this
particular work of all which have come under their notice. He used to
lecture on this peculiar art to young thieves, and whilst in prison
wrote a work giving them practical advice on the subject. The prison
officials allowed him to finish his literary effort, and when his time
expired coolly appropriated the same.
[Illustration: PEACE'S CRUCIBLE.]
No article dealing even in a small way with "Burglars and Burgling"
would be complete without some reference to "The King," and the relics
of this talented individual are of a highly interesting character.
Charles Peace thoroughly deserved to be crowned king of all burglars,
housebreakers, and scoundrels in general. Peace always worked
single-handed. He had no "receiver," and melted down all his own stuff
and sold it as a matter of business. All his stock-in-trade is to be
found at the museum. His tools are only ten in number, and comprise a
skeleton key, two pick-locks, a centre-bit, a large gimlet, a gouge, a
chisel, a small vice (for turning keys on the outside of doors--used
when people leave the key in the lock), a jemmy (about 2ft. long), and
a knife. With these Peace worked. His blue spectacles and case are not
missing. These he used for purposes of disguise, though when arrested
at Blackheath his face was stained with walnut-juice, in the hopes of
passing off as a Mulatto.
His ladder was quite a unique arrangement. When doubled up it is to
all outward appearances simply a bundle of blocks of wood such as any
carpenter might carry home for firewood. But it opens out to a length
of some 13ft., working on a bolt, with a hole at one end to hook on
to a nail in the wall, and so complete facilities were afforded for
climbing to window or veranda. In addition to his tools he called into
requisition a pony and trap at night. He practically killed the pony
with hard work.
The crucible in which he did his melting down is of clay, and was
found at Peckham. Its interior is much scorched. It is about 6in.
deep inside, and the diameter of the orifice is 4in. Peace was truly
magnificent in all he undertook--in his own peculiar profession he
positively arose to greatness. In the midst of his burglaries he kept
up a fine house at Peckham, with two housekeepers and a servant. His
drawing-room suite was worth sixty guineas, a Turkey carpet was laid on
the floor, gilded mirrors decorated the walls, and on the grand piano
was a beautifully inlaid Spanish guitar worth some thirty guineas. He
lived the life of an independent gentleman. He was passionately fond
of music, and on the night of the attempted robbery at Blackheath he
had an at-home concert, and whilst one housekeeper played the piano and
another sang, Charles joined in with the violin.
His audacity was such that at the time his name was on everybody's
lips, and Scotland Yard was full of him, he visited the Yard disguised
as a clergyman and asked a number of questions about himself!
His false arm was a unique idea. He was minus the fore-finger of the
left hand, and after he left Sheffield on 29th November, 1876, his
description was posted at every police-station in the country. So
he made himself this arm which he placed in his sleeve, hanging his
violin on the hook when engaged in walking about and taking stock of
"crackable" residences, and screwing in a fork in the place of the hook
for use at meals. So for something like two years the irrepressible
Peace walked this earth short of a _hand_, whilst the police were
looking for a man short of a _finger_!
[Illustration: PEACE'S SPECTACLES AND DUMMY ARM.]
[Illustration: