enjoyed being ‘in service’. Besides living in beautiful homes that I could rob, there was also the air of class. My appreciation for antiques, beautiful jewellery and culture are separate from my criminality. Working for the rich meant that I could indulge both aspects of myself. I scoured the pages of Tatler , and found an appointment as companion to a rich elderly American and his wife. Itravelled to Cooden Beach, Bexhill, Sussex and moved into a luxurious seafront bungalow. The other ‘help’ was a maid and cook. After prison, this place seemed like paradise. My duties were light and I spent many an hour just soaking up the sun. My employer was a gentle old soul with failing health. I decided not to rob him. As if in reward for my good deed, I formed a friendship with the cook and started fucking her. Life was very pleasant. Phylis Nye’s cooking was delicious. After a while, pleasant becomes boring. I decided to move on, but this time with a partner. I thought a butler/cook combination might make job-seeking easier. I placed some well-worded advertisements in top people’s magazines and The Times . The offers came rolling in. The old gent asked me to stay, offering me an increase in salary. I told him I would until he found a replacement. I remained another two weeks. At night, the old man’s wife would ask me to take the jewels off her fingers. She liked me to put them in a glass of gin which she believed cleaned them.
I can’t think of another time in my life when someone gave me their jewels … and I gave them back. Once I left that house I never returned. These were two people I could not steal from.
Phylis and I moved into High Trees near Chalfont-St-Peters, Buckinghamshire. Our employer was a Mr Nigel Law, retired First Secretary of the Diplomatic Service.
Law lived in a mansion with his aristocratic Russian wife. Their life was opulent and incredibly gracious. Friends would fly in from Italy and America for lunch. After a meal and some relaxing drinks, they would fly back.The Laws never dined alone; there were always guests. They were friends of the famous and I would hear all the latest gossip on Somerset Maugham’s gay love triangle. The conversation was sparkling with wit, the house ablaze with shimmering silver and gold. It was like a palace. If I could have been born to their lifestyle, I would never have become a thief. As it was, I spent many happy hours examining Mrs Law’s jewellery.
The Laws had a silver room, that is, a room where silver was stored. I had occasion to be looking in this room one day, when I found four boxes of soup spoons, they were so large that two spoonfuls would have emptied a bowl. I checked the inventory, they were not mentioned. I stored them away. A day or two later, I took a trip into the City. I packed all four boxes into a briefcase, and took the briefcase to the Silver Vaults. I told the man who dealt with me that I had inherited them. He weighed them and then paid me. I left £3,000 richer. A good working day.
Phylis worked away diligently. She was popular with other staff and employers and at night I pleased her. She knew nothing of my true nature.
Mrs Law kept her jewellery in the safe in their bedroom. It took me a while to figure out the maze that led to the object of my desires but, eventually, I did.
Mr Law wore a pocket watch, and on this watch chain were two keys. One of these keys opened a drawer in his dressing table, inside of which was another bunch of keys. One of these opened a tin box, the type that sailors had in olden days. Inside the tin box were two other keys. These opened the safe.
On one of my days off, I visited a friend of mine in Praed Street, Paddington, and I had the safe keys copied. Now that I had the keys, it was time to move on. I could not rob them while I was still working there. The first set of ‘prints’ that the police took would reveal me for who I was. I started answering adverts again.
My first interview was with
I can’t think of another time in my life when someone gave me their jewels … and I gave them back. Once I left that house I never returned. These were two people I could not steal from.
Phylis and I moved into High Trees near Chalfont-St-Peters, Buckinghamshire. Our employer was a Mr Nigel Law, retired First Secretary of the Diplomatic Service.
Law lived in a mansion with his aristocratic Russian wife. Their life was opulent and incredibly gracious. Friends would fly in from Italy and America for lunch. After a meal and some relaxing drinks, they would fly back.The Laws never dined alone; there were always guests. They were friends of the famous and I would hear all the latest gossip on Somerset Maugham’s gay love triangle. The conversation was sparkling with wit, the house ablaze with shimmering silver and gold. It was like a palace. If I could have been born to their lifestyle, I would never have become a thief. As it was, I spent many happy hours examining Mrs Law’s jewellery.
The Laws had a silver room, that is, a room where silver was stored. I had occasion to be looking in this room one day, when I found four boxes of soup spoons, they were so large that two spoonfuls would have emptied a bowl. I checked the inventory, they were not mentioned. I stored them away. A day or two later, I took a trip into the City. I packed all four boxes into a briefcase, and took the briefcase to the Silver Vaults. I told the man who dealt with me that I had inherited them. He weighed them and then paid me. I left £3,000 richer. A good working day.
Phylis worked away diligently. She was popular with other staff and employers and at night I pleased her. She knew nothing of my true nature.
Mrs Law kept her jewellery in the safe in their bedroom. It took me a while to figure out the maze that led to the object of my desires but, eventually, I did.
Mr Law wore a pocket watch, and on this watch chain were two keys. One of these keys opened a drawer in his dressing table, inside of which was another bunch of keys. One of these opened a tin box, the type that sailors had in olden days. Inside the tin box were two other keys. These opened the safe.
On one of my days off, I visited a friend of mine in Praed Street, Paddington, and I had the safe keys copied. Now that I had the keys, it was time to move on. I could not rob them while I was still working there. The first set of ‘prints’ that the police took would reveal me for who I was. I started answering adverts again.
My first interview was with
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