View allAll Photos Tagged StrongBoxes
Name: Kohn
Gender: Male
Species: Ta-Matoran
Equipment: Strongbox of Medical Equipment
Status: Alive
Approximate Myers-Briggs Type: ISFJ ’Nurturer' (Introverted, Senser, Feeler, Judger)
Kohn is a seasoned Ta-Matoran Field Medic who worked within the Overguard: the Matoran-conscripted military force overseeing Yerinn. Kohn was well known for his peculiar 'No Pain, No Gain' philosophy to his treatments: Once he was certain his subject was out of immediate danger, he would assess his patient's behaviour leading to their injury. If he found fault in him or her (the patient was careless around the offending machinery, for example), he would exercise brusqueness that severely reduced the pleasantness of his service; it was not uncommon for patients to be withheld painkillers, left larger than necessary scars, or at times turned away altogether - all in the name of 'building character'.
Kohn would remain completely indignant while receiving complaints from his peers, and would grumble about his peers 'general lack of common sense' and 'innate incompetency'. For in fact, Kohn possessed a sincere and heartfelt fear that his nation's complacency would lead to demise when, not if, disaster struck.
Just like he had done many times over, he was proven right when 'The Shattering' reduced Yerinn to a smoking, dying wasteland. His expertise in surgery was invaluable while gathering survivors (he exercised much more sincerity during this time), and though things have changed immensely, by the newcoming Toa Alverh's watch Kohn continues to do as he has always done.
Elizabeth "Biz" Portlock dressed in 19th century period costume, reading an adressed envelope in the Laredo Wells Fargo office.
Composition loosely based upon the painting "Woman Reading a Letter" by Johannes Vermeer, c. 1663. The pose in front of the window through which a soft defused light falls into the room, portrays the sitter in a quiet contemplative moment.
A www.photoshootstudio.co.uk/ location shoot event at www.laredo.org.uk/ organised by Paul Meyer, Carrie and Daniel Hoey.
all copyrights reserved © 2015 Art Hutchins ~ Art's Eye photographic©
The Watcher in the woods
Pursuing the Posh
A Cat Burglar Saga
From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.
C.B. Case Study 13 , File B
Subset Source: Journal
Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?
ORIGINATION STORY:
flic.kr/p/BcnW2J
Synopsis:
The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.
I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.
The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.
Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.
So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?
Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.
So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.
There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.
The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.
She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!
But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.
But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.
She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.
I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!
***** Two productive evenings later ****************
It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.
I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).
But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.
The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.
This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.
With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.
Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.
And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…
The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!
I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.
Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.
Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.
It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.
I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.
I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!
A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.
Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.
I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.
Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.
The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.
Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!
Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.
I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.
It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.
Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.
They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!
They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.
Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.
Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).
But beady eyes says nothing..
He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.
It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.
I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.
I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.
I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.
I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.
In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.
I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.
I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.
Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.
I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.
I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.
But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.
I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.
As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.
This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.
A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….
I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.
So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……
But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.
I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.
One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.
Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!
And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.
************************************
Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans
Roughly translated:
If you want to make God laugh, Make plans
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
********************************************************************************
partners in crime fighting
DC Superheros
Copyright: R.Agnello LLC & Strongbox Photography Studios LLC
how my guys keep busy during snowstorms... photos.
© Copyright by Strongbox Photography Studios LLC
Photos by Ron Agnello
Death by Ketchup themed photo shoot with Lacey (MM# 1167503) in my kitchen. Idea was inspired by a photo challenge involving Heinz ketchup by the guys at Strongbox Magazine.
Lighting was with a mix of a 22" white beauty dish with grid, AB800 with 20 degree grid, and a Pentax 540fgz flash with homemade snoot depending on the photo.
For updates, contests, and other photo shoots, join my Facebook Fan Page. Also check out my www.photoburgh.com.
snowstorm photos.
www.facebook.com/pages/Strongbox-Photography-Studios-LLC/...
© Copyright by Strongbox Photography Studios LLC
Photos by Ron Agnello
They've removed or covered over most of the signs at what – until a few days ago – was known as "Mellon Arena". Since the new Consol Energy Center across the street will be officially open for business on the 18th for a Paul McCartney concert, the naming rights on the old "Igloo" were allowed to expire. This means that as it nears its imminent death, the building is once again the Civic Arena.
I wish like hell they could find a way to save at least the exterior (I've seen some cool plans that would allow this), but it's not going to happen. Soon, this beautiful building will be a memory.
I will miss it.
For the rest of this mini photo essay, visit the STRONGBOX Magazine Blog
Well...
So my previous meter box project that was made from scraps, inspired me to do a bit of a deep dive into making some more boxes. So this time around, I decided to pick up some better than plane old pine timbers such as mahogany, curly maple, purple heart, jatoba and some cherry wood. Walnut is also on the way!
This box is roughly 6 x 6 x 3 and a bit, inches. I didn't exactly know what I was going to do with it when I first started onto it. It's not completely finished at this point either. I still want to do some thin strip contrasting wood inlay work. My woodworking tools are a mix of old hand me down tools from my dad along with an assortment of stuff I picked up over the years for addressing basic tasks. Where I live now, it excludes the use of shop grade behemoth apparatus due to the noise and power consumption requirements. So I use almost exclusively, hand tools and like them to be as quiet as possible. I still have a few needums on that tool roster!
This box might end up being used for an electronics project box or perhaps as a parts box for any number of smaller items.
Any and all feedback on the box or ideas I may have yet to come up with, please chime in and communicate with a fellow traveler. :)
Well...
So my previous meter box project that was made from scraps, inspired me to do a bit of a deep dive into making some more boxes. So this time around, I decided to pick up some better than plane old pine timbers such as mahogany, curly maple, purple heart, jatoba and some cherry wood. Walnut is also on the way!
This box is roughly 6 x 6 x 3 and a bit, inches. I didn't exactly know what I was going to do with it when I first started onto it. It's not completely finished at this point either. I still want to do some thin strip contrasting wood inlay work. My woodworking tools are a mix of old hand me down tools from my dad along with an assortment of stuff I picked up over the years for addressing basic tasks. Where I live now, it excludes the use of shop grade behemoth apparatus due to the noise and power consumption requirements. So I use almost exclusively, hand tools and like them to be as quiet as possible. I still have a few needums on that tool roster!
This box might end up being used for an electronics project box or perhaps as a parts box for any number of smaller items.
Any and all feedback on the box or ideas I may have yet to come up with, please chime in and communicate with a fellow traveler. :)
Where the Jewels Are.
A Prequel to
“An Odyssey Less Taken “ (Tallie)
An Escapade in 3 Acts…
Excerpts:
************
Act 1
The Mustard Seed is planted
***********
A couple is getting ready to leave for an apparently Fancy Dress Affair:
The wife cascades down the stairs swirling her silk dress for to catch her husband’s eye, which she does.
Blimey Bess, did you leave anything in ur Jewelry Casket, he chides with a satisfied smirk.
Casket, Luv? Really? I keep telling you what a morbid term that is, she scolds him , while she smiles radiantly ; fetchingly placing a hand to her husband’s cheek, then straightening the black bow tie of his tux.
Don’t be snide, I know you like it when I dress. Besides it’s not often we get to hob nob with near royalty. Beth said in justification of herself driving to the occasion dressed to the nines.
But Beth, Calling it a casket is an old term, and her husband starts to explain (not for the first time) the origin of the phrase ”jewele casket”
Hush child, Beth simpers, placing a finger to his lips, with a very becoming look in her eyes, save it for the students. She turns away and he slaps her lovingly upon her posterior. She giggles and heads back to the stairs.
The doorbell rings.
Beth stops and turns, looking at the door. Could you get that dear, looks like a postal package. I have to go upstairs to finish my hair, and to bury my casket, you old toad she tosses at him, making no attempt to hide in her voice the with undying affection she has for her husband, the love of her life.
He obediently goes to the door, where a man in uniform can be seen through the window, waiting with a package.
He turns, a lump rising in his throat as he eyeballs his pretty ( to him) wife Bess. The main reason is too catch another look at the pretty party dress swishing along her withdrawing figure ,but he also throws a teasing retort at her retreating back, . besides, casket It what me Mum called it luv…..
Turning away, he goes to open the door.
End Act 1
*******
Act 2
The Trolley Cometh
*******
Up on a hummock a large stone manor sits, dominating the landscape below.
A proper butler opens the Manor’s double doors and a stream of well gowned, ladies pour out. The many jewels they are wearing sparkling like some sort of jewel filled waterfall as they move heading down to where a quite ornate Trolley awaits them.
The whispering rustle of high end satin and the erupting glitter of colourfully flickering tiffany quality jewels, lighting up the dreary early morning as female members of the wedding party descend.
The bride is the last to come out into the early morning, stopping to survey the activity below , ever so a royal highness looking down on her subjects.
It was her idea to have her brides maids be driven out to her parents country estate before the dress rehearsal and have a photo grapher take shots of her party at various locations. Since the Groom and his Groomsmen were not allowed, by custom, to view the gowned bride before the ceremony, they were of course not invited. Nor was anyone else outside herself, the bridal party and the photo grapher. The rehearsal and dinner were to take place later that afternoon, and the bride and her party would be changing at the country estate. Towards that means they had already placed cases aboard the trolley containing their evening clothes and everyday jewelry that they would wear for the evenings festivities..
She preferred to be in control off all aspects of the situation. Needless to say, her wedding planner, waiting at the stone cathedral, had developed a migraine over the whole affair.
After a couple of group shots are arranged in front of the elegant trolley, the party is herded aboard by the tuxedoed trolley driver. He has their schedule to keep. He is helped by his pretty blonde wife, herself dressed shimmering, sparkling, as she expertly moves (herds?) the elegant ladies , escorting them cheerfully to their seats.
And with a lurch of the trolley on the old private road, the entire ultra-wealthy group set off on their pre nuptial adventure.
End Act 2
*******
The connection between acts 1 & 2, for those who haven’t figured it out, will be revealed in act 3.
Please comment if you’re going to stay tuned for the outcome
************
****************
This would be the 3rd and possibly final installment of the trilogy…..If you are interested in reading the storyline complete you may find it enlightening to visit Acts 1 and 2 (respectively) before proceeding any further.
Please consider leaving a comment behind that you have (read) the acts. It would be deeply appreciated.
Act 3(?)
After the Harvest
*******
The inspector arrives in his rather jaunty sports auto. He emerges with his Detective Sargent, approaching a waiting constable.
The constable’s partner, Archie, is inside with the police matron.
What do we have Constable? The inspector asks quizzically.
Apparently we have a husband and wife teem who own and drive a private rental trolley, that then decides to waylay and rob the entire wedding party they were hired to ferry about.
Way out here, in the middle of nowhere, Constable?
Appears they were going to the Brides summer home to be photographed. The trolley turned down the path to this old deserted manor where they were told there was engine trouble.
And they were robbed, by the driver and his wife you say Constable?
Them, and two others waiting.
4 robbers then,
Who called it in Constable?
Received an anonymous tip
And just what were they robbed of, Constable? The inspector asked, almost wearily.
Stripped of everything down to their bloody knickers, the lot of them. Then handcuffed and left.
Language Mate, the inspector chided his constable, looking at his Sargent, taking this all down?
Detective Sargent nods
Now, he said turning back to the Constable, Just why do you suppose they stripped them of their clothes.
The gowns were worth L3000 pounds each, real emeralds, the brides was worth double that, with real diamonds
So they were robbed for their expensive clothes, then eh Sargent, the inspector leered.
No Sir that was not all the lot were after.
The Bride was wearing diamond jewelry worth L100,000 pounds easy, the rest of the girls were wearing matching emeralds sets that the bride paid L32,000 pounds each.
Each, The inspector arched an eyebrow.
Each of the Bridesmaids, inspector, answered the ridden constable.
That’s a great amount of information constable. Just how did you acquire it.
The bride sir, she won’t stop squawking on about it. answered the Constable
Careful how you talk about your betters, constable, the inspector winked at him.
I’m sure the young lady in question has every right to squawk.
So let me get this straight constable, a bridal party was Shanghaied and robbed of their possessions by their trolley driver, his wife and two other associates. Then someone cordially calls the station to let us in on the joke?
Right sir, no joke though
Then why did they leave their trolley here, for evidence against them?
Asked the Inspector, before turning to his Detective Sargent.
Sergeant. send a man down to the drivers abode, the information should be acquired from the registration from the plates they so handily left.
The Constable cleared his throat, actually my partner Archie already called it in Sir.
The inspector raised an eyebrow, Glad to see someone is on the ball.
The police radio crackles, the constable goes to answer it.
He comes back, standing smartly at attention.
Just received a call, they found the husband and wife tied up in their basement.
Apparently two men posing as a postal worker and driver held them up.
The ones who robbed the bride and her party? Constable?
No sir, apparently the two who brought them here were imposters.
The real uns were held them up at gunpoint, made to strip to their underthings and tied up.
Then Two others, man and woman, took the Trolly to the Manor to “pick up” the Bride and her Bridesmaids.
Has a statement been taken? Yes sir, but there is not much.
Thieves were disguised as postal workers. House was ransacked, safe looted, wife jewel case cleaned out, the usual.
After burgling their manor, the occupants were stripped to their skivvies, trussed up and locked in their basement cannery.
Then a call came in on their telephone, the thieves answered it. After they hung up, the husband heard their phone used to call us, and heard the two thieves leave..
Was anything said by the thieves?
They only overheard the one thing, something one of the postage men said.
Thief posing as one, right constable, don’t want to give anyone a bad rep
Yes sir,
it appears that when the thief - wearing the postman’s costume- answered the phone, he repeated a phrase.
And what would that phrase have been, constable?
Mustard Seed,
Mustard seed? Eh.
Sergeant, the inspector turned to his detective sergeant. That begs the question, why Mustard seed?
The Detective Sergeant mulled it over for a minute. Then offered:
Seed, could be seed money, mustards grow from a small seed into something quite large. This robbery was seed money for something bigger, possibly, sir?
Not bad Sargent, will make an inspector of you yet.
The inspector turns back to the constable, who has had just about enough of his superiors questions.
He is relieved to now hear what the inspector has to say.
Constable, stand pat here while my sergeant and I have a chat with our victims inside,
The inspector turned to his Detective Sergeant :
Let’s get this lot sorted out, and then will we’ll head over and see about the driver and his wife…
The two made their way up towards the decaying deserted manor house.
The Constable, watching them disappear inside, mutters under his breath.
That is an awfully big haul just for seed money. I would be happy with what that lot will get for what they stole. I bet the old man is off target on this one. Thieves probably will be out of the country with the loot and have it pawned in the states by the time he gets done with his questions.
The constable was closer to the truth than he realized…..
Originally the gang planning the heist had meant to carry out the caper then head off to parts unknown with the loot and lay low. During planning the stages of the heist, one of their members infiltrated the group to garner information. Remarks were interestingly overheard by chatting bridesmaids about a lavish affair being staged a fortnight away (only one week after the rehearsal dinner).
From the “seed” planted by that helpful bit of overheard gossip, grew the new job the group was now going to carry out very shortly .
Mustard seed become its code name.
End of Act 3
*****************
In addendum
Now we break away from the crime scene to visit an occurrence that took place some two hours prior to the phone call that alerted the police to the unfortunate incident related above.
The scene: Inside a C. Hoare & Co branch, in a posh end of London..
Two ladies, both, opulently dressed in satins and jewels, their thick fur coats have been carefully hung by a smartly dressed lady porter, nearby, had been seated and served. The pair are now alone in a richly furnished private room of the bank. Wine at hand, they are merrily going through a collection of jewelry glistening from an open safe deposit strongbox brought up from the depths of the banks’ vault.
The fashionable, long haired daughter is half-heartedly trying on one of several jewel encrusted Tiaras…… Her stylish, bobbed haired mother is admiring the sparkle of a diamond waterfall style necklace; the pricy jewels’ matching mates, (earrings and bracelets and brooch) are laid out next to her.
The daughter suddenly lest out a squeal of delight as she spy’s a small sparkling ruby and emerald encrusted diamond cocktail ring , which she grabs and slips on her pinky. She admires the raw, rainbow like fireworks as she moves it under the lights.
Mum, can I? it will go ever so nicely with the gown I’m wearing to Polly’s Soiree.
Hey, that was my Great Aunts , her Mother yelps grasping at the ring. Almost looking like Defoe’s Sunday dressed Moll Flanders snatching at the colourful trinket worn by a young miss, awed by the passing parade of royals.
Unlike that distracted young miss, however, the daughter was able to hold the ring high from the reach of Her mother’s fingertips, giggling as she did so.
Now Millicent, her mother lectured, You know we don’t approve of young Lady Pollyanna’s fancy boy, Raul. He would probably manage a way to slip the ring from off your finger.
Oh, MaMa, , answered Millicent, I’ll be ever so careful, and please don’t you harp on poor Raul. He really is quite a dear, and the pearls were simply lost, nothing more. Let me wear the ring, and I’ll wear whatever jewelry you pick out for me the weekend, Sagely bargained Millicent.
Promise? Her mother asks, relenting in to her daughter’s wishes. It’s just that we don’t you making publicity over getting robbed just before your occasion.
Mum, Millicent says soothingly, nothing will happen to me before my Debs Ball, or occasion as you will call it. She bent over and kissed her mother on the forehead, before going back to her admiration of the pretty ring.
But innocently enough, pretty Millicent has no idea of the prophetic canniness her naively made promise to her mother would soon foretell.
To be continued….
To be continued….
Please see:
Album entitled “Tallie”
For the main story of what the mustard seed turned out to grow into…..
*********************************************************************************
The narration above is from a play with its roots Derived from a story based on fact.
Do to the rather extensive connections of the Families involved: an official report was never released to the public.
The case was finally Closed without being resolved to the victims,
Apparently the job was perfectly planned and executed by professionals , probably with inside information from never discovered sources.
**********************************************************************************
Please consider leaving a comment behind that you have (read) the acts. It would be deeply appreciated.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCLAIMER
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
********************************************************************************
Iron poison ring, made from a block of iron. The bottom of the chamber and the lid are made of pure iron. The hinge and the locker ring are silver.
The bottom of the chamber is inlayed into the body of the ring.
The "IIXIIXIIXII" signs on the bottom of the ring band are protective motifs they were used on old padlocks.
This ring -like my other poison rings - represents to me the desire to keep, save and protect something.
Weight: 17 gramm
Size: 7.5 (US) : slightly enlargable
This fire retardant Brink's safebox with SLR backup tapes inside was found by one of Hack42's visitors in a pile of trash in front of the offices of Voomies, approximately six months ago. One of the tapes is also marked with the company name. Can't wait to see what's written on them.
The title is a pun on slogans such as "Your data, our commitment". Google Translate even mistranslates it as "Your data, we care", because it actually translates roughly into something like "Your data, we couldn't care less". It is much more subtle in Dutch though.
A minor update to my large airlifter. Unlike most LEGO models I do not expect the walls to carry very much force, and therefore a fairly strong endoskeleton is needed.
Tests showed that my previous design was insufficient so I have considerably reinforced the whole thing.
On July 27, 1875, Wells Fargo stage driver John Shine was working his stagecoach down the steep road on Funk Hill 6.4km East of here when a man stepping out of the bushes. He wore a dirty duster, a hood made of a flour sack with holes cut through it, and was armed with a 12-gauge shotgun. "Please throw down the box!" the robber proclaimed, then told scattered figures around "If he dares shoot give him a solid volley, boys." Shine gave up his strongbox, containing $380. When a lady in the stagecoach panicked and threw her purse out, the outlaw picked it up, bowed at her, and handed it back. "Madam, I do not wish your money, In that respect I honor only the good office of Wells Fargo." He then motioned Shine to move along. After a distance, Shine stopped his coach and secretly returned on foot, finding what he thought were additional gunmen were carefully arranged sticks. And so came the first of the Black Bart robberies.
For the next eight years, Black Bart would embark in periodic robberies, basically enough to keep him until money went tight. Some 28 were credited to him, ranging from Jackson County, Oregon, to Sonoma. His center of activity however was the far North of California. All the robberies involved Well Fargo stagecoaches.
After his fourth robbery near Fort Ross, the robber left a note of doggerel poetry, establishing his moniker and furthering his legend:
"I've labored long and hard for bread,
For honor and for riches
But on my corns too long you've tread,
You fine-haired sons-of-b____es.
Black Bart, the P o 8"
Fifth robbery, Butte County:
"To wait the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat
And everlasting sorrow.
Yet come what will, I'll try it once,
My conditions can't be worse,
And if there's money in that box,
'Tis money in my purse.
Black Bart, the P o 8"
(also: Driver, give my respects to our old friend, the other driver. I really had a notion to hang my old disguise hat on his weather eye.)
Black Bart had a flair for politeness (especially to ladies) and never fired his gun (he was minimally wounded during his 23rd attempt when the guard immediately fired in response: Black Bart fled).
Ironically, the Black Bart story ends at the same location it began, Funk Hill near Copperopolis. On November 3, 1883, Reason McConnell was driving a stagecoach with $5000. A local hunter, Jimmy Rolleri, had tagged along to hunt deer, and had jumped out at the base of the hill. As McConnell began descending the other side of the hill he was stopped by Black Bart and ordered to hand over his strongbox. Minutes after the robbery, McConnell ran into Rolleri, and the two pursued and shot Black Bart, who disappeared into the hills. Quickly rounding up a posse, the two came back to the scene of the crime, finding mail (some specked with blood), a leather valise containing with two field glasses, a belt, a razor, three soiled linen shirt cuffs, two paper sacks with crackers and sugar, and two empty flour sacks. Also in the bag was an old handkerchief in which was knotted a handful of buckshot. The handkerchief would prove to be Black Bart's undoing.
Copperoplis, California
Elizabeth "Biz" Portlock dressed in 19th century period costume, studying the parcel ledger in the Laredo Wells Fargo office.
Composition loosely based upon the painting "Woman Reading a Letter" by Johannes Vermeer, c. 1663. The pose in front of the window through which a soft defused light falls into the room, portrays the sitter in a quiet contemplative moment.
A www.photoshootstudio.co.uk/ location shoot event at www.laredo.org.uk/ organised by Paul Meyer, Carrie and Daniel Hoey.
all copyrights reserved ©2015 Art Hutchins ~Art's Eye photographic©
strongbox decorated with cupids and dionysic figures
excavated from Pompeii
National Archaeological Museum, Naples
20221010_150025
The Watcher in the woods
Pursuing the Posh
A Cat Burglar Saga
From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.
C.B. Case Study 13 , File B
Subset Source: Journal
Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?
ORIGINATION STORY:
flic.kr/p/BcnW2J
Synopsis:
The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.
I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.
The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.
Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.
So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?
Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.
So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.
There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.
The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.
She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!
But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.
But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.
She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.
I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!
***** Two productive evenings later ****************
It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.
I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).
But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.
The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.
This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.
With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.
Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.
And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…
The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!
I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.
Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.
Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.
It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.
I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.
I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!
A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.
Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.
I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.
Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.
The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.
Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!
Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.
I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.
It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.
Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.
They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!
They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.
Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.
Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).
But beady eyes says nothing..
He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.
It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.
I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.
I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.
I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.
I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.
In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.
I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.
I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.
Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.
I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.
I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.
But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.
I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.
As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.
This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.
A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….
I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.
So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……
But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.
I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.
One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.
Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!
And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.
************************************
Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans
Roughly translated:
If you want to make God laugh, Make plans
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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'I first met Vicq Ruiz quite some distance from anywhere, along the edge of the wide peneplain which is the border of Floreat Go-Lee.'
'After scrimping and saving for nearly twenty-one years, after being wiped out twice during the Depression -- once at its inception and again at the end of the thing -- after paying taxes all the while for wars and deficits and luxuries, I nevertheless had managed to acumulate enough money to purchase a passage on a round-the-world airliner, such passage being at the time the zenith of my ambition.
'The ship got halfway around; then a wing fell off, and down we came. Twenty-three people were aboard besides myself. They were all killed. I went through their pockets and through their luggage and through the ship's strongbox and salvaged all the money I could find. I ate a sandwich the stewardess had prepared just prior to the crash. I took the pilot's gun and secreted it about my waist under my greatcoat. Then I lit out. I didn't know where I was.
'Vic Ruiz was knee-deep in a patch of calla lilies when I found him. He beckoned me over and showed me a lily he had just finished painting.
'"Sir," he exulted proudly, "they claimed it couldn't be done."
'"But," I asked, "do you really think you have improved it?"'
Charles G. Finney. Cover art by Jack Gaughan.
Best Made Co. Strongbox
With “that time of the year” fast approaching, we sat down to compare wish lists and came up with 50 awesome Christmas gift ideas that we wanted to share with you. See the full list on our website.
Strongboxes from a Deadwood stage, ca. 1880. Each weighs more than 200 pounds, so much that a lone robber could not take off with one.
Bluff
Pittsburgh, PA
Check out the latest issue of Strongbox Magazine. I have a photo essay on vacant lots that begins on pg. 40. There are a lot of other cool images and photographers in Strongbox. Enjoy.
Among the items my aunt left to the family when she died in 1982 was a small, leather bound ringed notebook simply titled “Family Data”. Over the years she had researched and recorded much of her mother’s family history including dates of birth, death and marriage. She also included change of residence and other significant life events all the way back to my maternal great great great grandmother. (Born in England, died in Brooklyn, buried in Brooklyn’s Calvary Cemetery.)
When my mom passed away in 1996 I rediscovered this little treasure trove locked away in a strongbox. Dolly, the woman on this page, is my great grandmother.
Requires the following elements: (1) a key (2) something old (3) close up
It sounds cliche but they really don't make vault doors like this anymore. Heavy, round doors used to be a sign of security in banks around the turn of the 20th century. That changed due to a number of manufacturing complexities and their tendency to sag under their own massive weight.
The average Mystic family of 1850 would never have used this bank. This was a commercial bank, and checking and savings accounts as we know them were not available. Instead, dependable businessmen could secure loans and mortgages here, to support solid ventures like shipbuilding or farming. No bank would finance such a risky venture as a whaling voyage. Though the Mystic Bank was founded through the investments of a number of "directors", the bank actually had only two employees--the President and the Cashier. Elias Brown and George W. Noyes were the first two gentlemen to hold these positions.
Businesses need money to grow. Mystic's shipbuilding and coasting trades were growing fast in the early 1800s, and soon needed a bank. In 1833, local businessmen opened this small bank at the head of the Mystic River, two miles north of here in Old Mystic. By 1856, they were ready to move into a new, larger building nearby. In 1951 this Greek Revival building was dismantled, brought down river from its original site, and rebuilt here. The original portico, which was missing, was replaced with an exact reproduction, a new floor was installed and the walls were replastered.
Vaults like the one in this bank were not built of granite to prevent burglaries. The real fear of the day was fire, and the bank's vault was the most fireproof place in a mid-nineteenth century town. The bank held its reserves of gold, silver, and banknotes inside the vault, alongside strongboxes containing customers' most valuable legal documents and business records. In seaports like Mystic, local ship owners kept a separate strongbox for each vessel, containing accounts, registry papers, logbooks, and ledgers. The box marked Acushnet contained the papers of the Fairhaven, Massachusetts, whaleship on which Herman Melville shipped out as an ordinary seaman in 1841--the voyage which inspired his masterpiece Moby-Dick.
The Shipping Office on the second floor contains furniture and records of an office dating from the last half of the nineteenth century.
Banknotes
Until the National Banking Act of 1862, the U.S. had no provision for a universally accepted paper currency. Gold, silver, and copper coinage of set value had been among the first priorities of the federal government, and the Spanish milled dollar -- piece of eight -- was legal tender in the U.S. until 1857. However, coins were never common enough to circulate throughout small-town America, and gold and silver were commonly hoarded during the economic depressions that beset the early nation. Small transactions with shopkeepers and between farmers and tradesmen were often recorded as book debts, with credit and debit accounts rectified periodically, and sometimes taken to court for resolution.
To make small transactions more efficient, local banks began to issue banknotes in the 1820s. These small-denomination notes were supposed to be underwritten by the bank's assets. To discourage counterfeiting, the notes were printed from copper plates engraved with increasingly intricate designs, produced by engraving companies such as the American Bank Note Company. Often they bore vignettes representing local scenes or themes of agriculture or commerce. Notes issued in maritime towns like Mystic often had images of ships, shipbuilding, or sailors. Locally, banknotes might circulate at face value, but if they travelled far from home, or if a bank's assets declined or the economy worsened, they were valued at a discount. Americans did not have a reliable circulating currency until the U.S. Treasury began issuing "greenbacks" during the Civil War and chartered national banks spread the federal system locally.
The cooperage was a shop where round wooden containers, which we generally call barrels, were manufactured. These casks were an essential element in life both at sea and ashore, and wooden containers made from staves and hoops served many storage purposes. Aboard ship they held provisions, various kinds of cargo and, on certain fishing and whaling vessels, the catch.
Casks intended for spirits, molasses, whale oil or other liquids had to be tight--that is, water-tight--and the cooper who made these types of containers was a "tight cooper." Slack casks were used for flour, potatoes, apples, crockery and just about anything else that might have to be shipped from one location to another.
A cooper was a regular member of a whaleship's crew. His responsibility was to assemble pre-made casks as they were needed to hold the valuable whale oil, and he was held responsible for leakage as well as accuracy of measure.
The building in which the exhibit is housed, once a barn on the Thomas Greenman property, has been modified to include typical features of a cooperage: a hearth large enough to work in while firing casks, a crane with a block and tackle and chine hooks, and a loft for storage.
Mystic Seaport Mystic Ct.
Between 1875 and 1883, a string of 28 stagecoach robberies hit the Wells Fargo Bank between California and Southern Oregon. Known as "Black Bart" after some poetry left by the "po8", the robber, wearing a duster and bowler, covered in a flour bag with holes cut into it, and armed with a shotgun and apparently in command of a large gang, would appear at a bend or hill on a well-traveled route, politely ask the driver for the strongbox, and then flee on foot, making off with thousands of dollars a year. Dime store novels exploded with lurid stories of the brutal outlaw who robbed at will, cementing his legend into the story of the American West. Black Bart was finally caught in 1883 after robbing his final stagecoach near Funk Hill (Copperopolis), ironically the site of his first robbery. A hunter scheduled to be picked up by the stagecoach came upon Black Bart robbing his ride and fired at the outlaw, wounding him in the hand. His gun was found to be unloaded. Wells Fargo investigator James Hume searching the scene later came upon a handkerchief labeled "F.X.0.7", which was traced all the way to a laundromat in San Francisco, who identified the culprit: Charles Bowles/Bolton, a dapper, well-off gentleman who claimed he was a mining engineer.
Bowles was an Englishman who had visited the California gold fields multiple times (and failed to hit it rich) fought in the American Civil War, and then left his wife and children (who thought he was dead) to go to California. Bowles was brought to the Calaveras County Courthouse, where he confessed to the final robbery and was sentenced to six years in San Quentin Prison. He got off in four years for good behavior, renounced crime (after a journalist asked whether he would continue writing poems his reply was "Now, didn't you hear me say that I am through with crime?") and disappeared as mysteriously as he appeared, vanishing after visiting a hotel in Visalia. Legend has it that Wells Fargo pensioned off the bandit to never show up again, though the bank has always denied it.
Black Bart Inn was rumored to be one of the locations the outlaw stayed when he was robbing stagecoaches in Gold Country. Bowles definitely was in the area, as his trial was just across the street.
San Andreas, California
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