f Peace's activities extended as far as Southampton,
Portsmouth and Southsea; but the bulk of his work was done in
Blackheath, Streatham, Denmark Hill, and other suburbs of South London.
Many dramatic stories are told of his exploits, but they rest for the
most part on slender foundation. On one occasion, in getting on to a
portico, he fell, and was impaled on some railings, fortunately in no
vital part. His career as a burglar in London lasted from the beginning
of the year 1877 until October, 1878. During that time this wanted man,
under the very noses of the police, exercised with complete success his
art as a burglar, working alone, depending wholly on his own mental and
physical gifts, disposing in absolute secrecy of the proceeds of his
work, and living openly the life of a respectable and industrious old
gentleman.

All the while the police were busily seeking Charles Peace, the murderer
of Mr. Dyson. Once or twice they came near to capturing him. On one
occasion a detective who had known Peace in Yorkshire met him in
Farringdon Road, and pursued him up the steps of Holborn Viaduct, but
just as the officer, at the top of the steps, reached out and was on the
point of grabbing his man, Peace with lightning agility slipped through
his fingers and disappeared. The police never had a shadow of suspicion
that Mr. Thompson of Peckham was Charles Peace of Sheffield. They knew
the former only as a polite and chatty old gentleman of a scientific
turn of mind, who drove his own pony and trap, and had a fondness for
music and keeping pet animals.

Peace made the mistake of outstaying his welcome in the neighbourhood
of South-East London. Perhaps he hardly realised the extent to which
his fame was spreading. During the last three months of Peace's career,
Blackheath was agog at the number of successful burglaries committed
in the very midst of its peaceful residents. The vigilance of the local
police was aroused, the officers on night duty were only too anxious to
effect the capture of the mysterious criminal.

About two o'clock in the morning of October 10, 1878, a police
constable, Robinson by name, saw a light appear suddenly in a window at
the back of a house in St. John's Park, Blackheath, the residence of a
Mr. Burness. Had the looked-for opportunity arrived? Was the mysterious
visitor, the disturber of the peace of Blackheath, at his burglarious
employment? Without delay Robinson summoned to his aid two of his
coll