…of Leslie Montague, one of the best-known bankers in London. I examined the cutlery — the best firm in Sheffield, of course; the glass — nothing under-half -a- crown apiece; the serviettes — Damask linen every one of them; and I was about to slip out of my seat and examine the pile of things on the sideboard, when the door opened and a foot-man, carrying a tray laden with dishes, entered. Following at his heels were Mr. Montague and a lady, who, from the very affectionate manner in which Mr. Montague addressed her, I gathered was his wife.”And here let me say that I only concluded she was a lady from the fact of her being Mrs. Montague, otherwise her attire, which was flash and fast in the extreme, would have led me to believe she was some very common person. I’m no judge of ladies’ dress, and couldn’t…

…it! Jim was a burglar, mister, a real top-sawyer in his profession, and there wasn’t his equal in London. I knew it when I first met him, and he knew all about me — that I was one of the cleverest filchers — pocket -pickers — in Whitechapel. Well, mister, we took to one another at first sight, and, after a few months courting, agreed that, if we were to marry and have a quiet time of it, we must give up our present line of business. Burglary is all very well for a single man, if he is ‘pinched’ no one misses him, but when it comes to seven years’ penal for a man with a wife and half a dozen children, it isn’t good enough. Jim and I were sensible enough to see that, mister, and we both came to the conclusion that, after one more haul, we…