e as an American gentleman, Mr. F.
A. Warren, who desired to open an account. A check and a pass book were
brought and the signature book laid before me for my autograph, and I
was requested to sign my name in full, so I christened myself Frederic
Albert. I drove to the North Eastern station and telegraphed the boys at
Barcelona that the thing was done and they could, if they liked, curtail
their excursion and return to England at once.

So the first step had been taken and successfully. We talked of now
giving up all further idea of breaking the law, and starting in London
as brokers and promoters of stock companies. The plan was for me to take
the money of the firm, L10,000, place it all in the Bank of England, and
begin to buy and sell stock and keep my money moving in and out of the
bank. Then George and Mac were to start an office and launch out as
promoters and refer to Mr. Warren of the Bank of England. This would
place them on a footing at once, and I would gradually drop out of the
Bank of England after introducing George and Mac in their right names.
This was a grand plan, and had we only carried it out fortune would have
been ours, and honor as well, but we were too impatient of any delay in
securing wealth and overconfident of our success and cleverness. Above
all, we were anxious to get home again. But I have got somewhat ahead of
my story.

Soon after I had a telegram from George and Mac saying that they would
arrive in time for a late dinner, and for me to wait and dine with them.
At the time I was living at the Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station. We
had a pleasant meeting and a good dinner to celebrate it. I exhibited my
check book, and they were eager to know all details of my interviews,
not only at the bank, but with the tailor, and over the wine I related
with great spirit the details of the little comedy. I have to this very
day a vivid recollection of the shouts of laughter that arose from my
companions during the recital. We laughed then, but we did not laugh for
the next twenty years, neither did we partake of any sumptuous banquets.
In the world of crime success is failure, and perhaps never had the
absolute accuracy of that statement been so fully confirmed as in our
own lives.

That merriment of ours ended in anguish too deep for words. For twenty
years I never looked upon a star, nor saw the face of a woman or of a
child; that is to say, from my early years when the heart beats fast
and the