suspicion. The speciality of their service prevented
their being dressed in uniform; he therefore
compelled them to wear gloves. Henceforward,
no one could reproach his men with "doing
business" in the crowd. The most practised hand,
unless completely naked, is powerless to prig.

The agents of the Brigade of Surety were no
sinecurists. On ordinary occasions they were
on duty eighteen hours out of the twenty-four;
but when they were out on "an expedition," it
might be three or four days before they got
back to their lodgings. As for their chief, it
was a problem for them, as for everybody else,
to know where and when he slept. At whatever
hour they wanted him, they always found
him dressed, always ready, always close shaved,
like an actor—in order to be able to put on
wigs, whiskers, and moustaches, of all ages
and all colours. It was nothing uncommon
to see him disguised in ten different costumes in
the course of one day.

Of Vidocq's address and powers of endurance
in tracking out and capturing his human game,
the two following anecdotes exhibit a slight
sample.

It is the custom in France for persons
employed in an official capacity to pay their
respects to the head of their department on New
Year's-day, often accompanying their compliments
with a trifling gift, such as a flower or a
fruit. There was a redoubtable robber, named
Delvèze the Younger, once a hackney-coachman,
who had defied the police to arrest him, for two
years and a half. On the 1st of January, 1813,
Vidocq went to pay his court to M. Henry, and
addressed him thus: "I have the honour to
wish you a happy new year, accompanied by the
famous Delvèze."

"That is what I call something like a New
Year's gift," said M. Henry, when he saw the
prisoner. "I should be very glad if each of
you gentlemen now present, could offer me the
like!'

New Year's gifts are offered in the first place
according to the ability of the giver; and,
secondly, according to the taste of the person to
whom they are offered. Vidocq was delighted
to find the arrest of Delvèze so thoroughly
appreciated by his superiors, although it increased
the hatred and jealousy of the peace-officers
and their agents. Consequently, on the 1st of
January, 1814, he brought another present of
the same nature, but ot much greater importance,
in the person of Fossard, an escaped galley-
slave, already celebrated, but who was destined
subsequently to immortalise himself by the
medal robbery at the Bibliothèque. Fossard
was a man of fifty years of age, of herculean
stature, and endowed with long-tried strength
and courage. It was known that he had made
up his mind to do anything rather than return
to the galleys; it was known, moreover, that he
was armed at all points; that he even carried
pistols concealed in the fine lawn pocket-
handkerchief which always dangled in his hand,
perfectly determined to blow out the brains of the
first man who should attempt to arrest him.
Therefore, ever since his return to Paris (whither
had come without asking leave of the
authorities at Brest, where quarters had been assigned
to him at the government expense), the police
agents were more afraid of him than he was of
them.

When, on the 15th of December, M. Henry
entrusted Vidocq with the dangerous mission of
arresting Fossard, the only information he could
give him was this: "Fossard is living in Paris,
in some street which leads from the Halle to the
Boulevard; it is not known on what story he
lodges, but the windows of his apartment are
hung with yellow silk and embroidered muslin
curtains. In the same house there lives a hump-
backed young woman, a dressmaker by trade,
who is on friendly terms with Fossard's female
companion."

These indications were vague enough. A
deformed girl is no rarity in any house in Paris
which contains a multitude of families; and there
are yellow curtains in at least one house in twenty.
Never mind; Vidocq set to work, made up
and disguised to represent a gentleman sixty
years of age, in easy circumstances, and in
sufficient preservation to attract the favourable
notice of a crook-backed lady, who had left her
minority at several years' distance. After twelve
days of fruitless research, he discovered his
charmer in the third story of a house in the Rue
du Petit-Carreau. Presenting himself as the
unfortunate husband of the woman with whom
Fossard was living, he learned that the latter
person had changed his lodgings, that he styled
himself Monsieur Hazard, and that he resided in
a smart house at the corner of the streets
Duphot and St. Honoré.

Vidocq then disguised himself as a coal-
heaver, and did it so well, that his mother and
his subordinates conversed with him for some time
without recognising him. In this costume, he
ascertained that the pretended M. Hazard never
went out without being armed to the teeth, and
that his elegant white handkerchief always
contained a brace of pistols. He came to the conclusion
that he had to deal with a man who could
only be arrested in bed, and he set about
considering the means of success. It appeared to
him that the best thing he could do was to
inspire the master of the wine-shop, in whose
house Fossard lodged, with fears respecting his
property, and even for his life. To this effect,
after resuming his ordinary dress and mien, he
presented himself to the worthy citizen; begging
in solemn tones the favour of a little private
conversation, he addressed him to the following
purport:

"I am commissioned to warn you, on the part
of the police, that you are about to be robbed.
The robber who has projected the crime, and
who perhaps will execute it himself, lodges in
your house. The woman who is with him,
sometimes comes and seats herself behind your
counter, by the side of your wife. While
thus engaged in conversation, she has managed
to obtain an impression of the key which opens
the door by which the thieves are to enter.