“Whilst uttering these lamentations, he endeavoured to go in the direction whence the sound had proceeded, to get his watch as he expected and hoped to do.  He came close up to Molin, who, under cover of the dense fog, put his hand with the watch in it close to the old gentleman’s ear, and pushing the spring again, said, whilst the watch was striking—­’Listen then to its sounds for the last time;’ and with this cruel advice the two thieves then went away, leaving the worthy undone elderly to bewail his loss.

“The ancient voleurs a la tire cite still, as amongst the celebrated personages of their profession, two Italians, the brothers Verdure, the eldest of whom, convicted of forming one of a band of chauffeurs, was sentenced to death.  On the day of execution, the younger, who was at liberty, wished to see his brother as he left the prison, and with several of his comrades took his station on the road.  When thieves go out in the evening into a crowd they generally have a preconcerted word of alarm or summons, by which to call or distinguish their accomplices.  Young Verdure, on seeing the fatal car, uttered his, which was lorge, to which the criminal, looking about him, replied lorge.  This singular salute given and returned, it may be imagined that young Verdure retired.  On his road he had already stolen two watches; he saw his brother’s head fall from the block, and either before or afterwards he was determined to carry matters to their utmost.

“The crowd having dispersed he returned to the cabaret with his comrades.  ‘Well, well,’ said he, laying down on the table four watches and a purse, ’I think I have not played my cards amiss.  I never thought to have made such a haul at my frater’s death; I am only sorry he’s not here to have his share of the swag.’”

Ring-droppers, and Emporteurs ("gentlemen who lose themselves”) are next shown up:  to the latter class belong the fellows who, under pretence of inquiring their road, fall into conversation with you, invite you to billiards, and cheat you.[2] Ring-droppers are very troublesome in Paris, especially in the Champs Elysees, where you may be teazed to buy a copper-framed eye-glass which they have just “found.”

Riffaudeurs, or Chauffeurs,

Were thieves assuming the garb of country dealers, or travelling hawkers; and they sought to wring from their victims a confession of where they had concealed their treasure, by applying fire to the soles of their feet.

The Fourth Volume closes abruptly with a story of a gang of them, which has all the horrors of rack and torture.  In the Translator’s sequel we find the following:—­

“Since the commencement of these Memoirs, M. Vidocq has given up his paper manufactory at St. Mande, and has been subsequently confined in Sainte Pelagie for debt.  His embarrassments are stated to have arisen from a passion for gambling, a propensity which, once indulged, takes deep root in the human mind; and few indeed, lamentably few, are those who can effectually eradicate the fatal passion.  Vidocq, who could assume all shapes like a second Proteus, who underwent bitter hardships, and unsparingly jeopardized his life at any time, could not resist the fell temptation which has brought him to distress and a prison.