n his proper business, he was equally alert to
meet the accompanying risks. He had brought the art of cozening strange
dogs to perfection; and for the exigence of escape, his physical
equipment was complete. He would resist capture with unparalleled
determination, and though he shuddered at the shedding of blood, he
never hesitated when necessity bade him pull the trigger. Moreover,
there was no space into which he would not squeeze his body, and the
iron bars were not yet devised through which he could not make an exit.
Once--it was at Nottingham--he was surprised by an inquisitive detective
who demanded his name and trade. 'I am a hawker of spectacles,' replied
Peace, 'and my licence is downstairs. Wait two minutes and I'll show it
you.' The detective never saw him again. Six inches only separated the
bars of the window, but Peace asked no more, and thus silently he
won his freedom. True, his most daring feat--the leap from the
train--resulted not in liberty, but in a broken head. But he essayed
a task too high even for his endeavour, and, despite his manacles, at
least he left his boot in the astonished warder's grip.

No less remarkable than his skill and daring were his means of evasion.
Even without a formal disguise he could elude pursuit. At an instant's
warning, his loose, plastic features would assume another shape; out
shot his lower jaw, and, as if by magic, the blood flew into his face
until you might take him for a mulatto. Or, if he chose, he would
strap his arm to his side, and let the police be baffled by a wooden
mechanism, decently finished with a hook. Thus he roamed London up and
down unsuspected, and even after his last failure at Blackheath, none
would have discovered Charles Peace in John Ward, the Single-Handed
Burglar, had not woman's treachery prompted detection. Indeed, he was an
epitome of his craft, the Complete Burglar made manifest.

Not only did he plan his victories with previous ingenuity, but he
sacrificed to his success both taste and sentiment. His dress was always
of the most sombre; his only wear was the decent black of everyday
godliness. The least spice of dandyism might have distinguished him
from his fellows, and Peace's whole vanity lay in his craft. Nor did the
paltry sentiment of friendship deter him from his just course. When
the panic aroused by the silent burglar was uncontrolled, a neighbour
consulted Peace concerning the safety of his house. The robber,
having duly no