Another tragedy in Manhattan was the end of Johnny T----. I had been out only a short time after my second bit, when I met him on the Bowery. He was just back, too, and complained that all his old pals had lost their nerve. Whenever he made a proposition they seemed to see twenty years staring them in the face. So he had to work alone. His graft was burglary, outside of New York. He lived in the city, and the police gave him protection for outside work. He was married and had two fine boys. One day a copper, contrary to the agreement, tried to arrest him for a touch made in Mt. Vernon. Johnny was indignant, and wouldn't stand for a collar under the circumstances. He put four shots into the flyman's body. He was taken to the station-house, and afterwards tried for murder. The boys collected a lot of money and tried to save him, but he had the whole police force against him and in a few months he was hanged. A friend of mine, L----, had a similar fate. He was a prime favorite with the lasses of easy virtue, and was liked by the guns. One night when I met him in a joint where grafters hung out, he displayed a split lip, given him by the biggest bully in the ward. It was all about a girl named Mollie whom the bully was stuck on and on whose account he was jealous of L----, whom all the women ran after. A few nights later, L---- met the bully who had beaten him and said he had a present for him. "Is it something good?" asked the gorilla. "Yes," said L----, and shot him dead. L---- tried to escape, but was caught in Pittsburg, and extradited to New York, where he was convicted partly on the testimony of the girl, whom I used to call Unlimited Mollie. She was lucky, for instead of drifting to the Bowery, she married a policeman, who was promoted. L---- was sentenced to be hanged, but he died game.