These are a few of the most prominent of the criminals who belonged to the upper or professional classes. Others there were, and will be, always; but as a rule such cases are not numerous. Speaking in general terms of the “gentleman convict,” as viewed from the gaoler’s side, he is an ill-conditioned, ill-conducted prisoner. When a man of energy and determination, he wields a baleful influence around and among other prisoners if proper precautions are not taken against inter-communications. His comrades look up to him, especially if he is disposed to take the place of a ringleader and to put himself forward as the champion of insolence and insubordination. They render him too, a sort of homage in their way, scrupulously retaining the titles which have been really forfeited, if indeed they were ever earned. Mr. So-and-so, Major This and Captain That, are the forms of address used by Bill Sykes when speaking of or to a gentleman convict. For the rest, if not openly mutinous, these “superior” felons are chiefly remarkable for their indifference to prison rules, especially those which insist on cleanliness and neatness in their cells. Naturally, by habits and early education they are unskilled in sweeping and washing, and keeping bright their brass-work and their pewter utensils. In these respects the London thief or hardened habitual criminal, who knows the interior of half the prisons in the country, has quite the best of it. Somewhat lower in the social scale, but superior also to the common burglar or thief, are those who occupy positions of trust in banks or city offices, and for whom the temptation of an open till or slack administration are too strong to be resisted. A good instance of this class was Mr. B., who was employed as a clerk in the Bank of England. With the assistance of a confederate who personated a Mr. Oxenford—there was no special reason for selecting this gentleman, in preference to any other Smith, Brown or Jones—he made over to himself stock to the amount of £8,000 standing in Mr. Oxenford’s name. His accomplice was a horse jobber. The stock in question was paid by a cheque on Lubbock’s for the whole sum, whither they proceeded, asking to have it cashed—all in gold. There were not eight thousand sovereigns available at the moment, but they received instead eight Bank of England notes for £1,000 each, which they promptly changed at the bank for specie, taking with them a carpet-bag to hold the money. The bag when filled was found to be too heavy to lift, but with the assistance of the bank porters it was got into a cab. They now drove to Ben Caunt’s public in St. Martin’s Lane, and there secured a room for the night; the money was transferred to their portmanteaus, several in number, and next morning they took an early train to Liverpool _en route_ for New York. The steamer _Britannia_, in which they took passage, started almost immediately, and they soon got clear out of the country.