A GUIDE TO ROGUEDOM.*
WE must confess to being somewhat disappointed by the underworld that Mr. Felstead shows us in this new book of his. Mr. Thomas Burke, of Limehouse fame, and others had led us to expect something at once more terrible and glamorous than this ; but perhaps that is because Mr. Burke, for example, is after all something Of an artist and Mr. Felstead is simply a reporter. It is only fair to admit, however, that the latter tries hard to make the best of his material ; he gives us confi- dence tricksters, pickpockets, swell crooks, receivers of stolen goods, and, it goes without saying, any number of " dope merchants." Mr. Felstead's opening chapter is rather con- fusing. He does not seem to have made up his mind whether London is better than it used to be or whether it is worse. All that he does know is that a book of this kind should be begun in a mood of regret, and so at one moment he declares " We are not improving in the way we take our pleasures. It is not so many years ago, less than ten to be precise, that the thought of a West-End night club haunted by negroes and Chinamen peddling poisonous drugs to stupid women would have aroused a thrill of horror in the land, with an irresistible demand that such a place should immediately be swept out of existence " ; and then in other places we find him saying, " The plain truth of the matter is that the West End of London is growing sedate in its pleasures. . . . London has been growing dull of recent times. . . . Frankly, London is trying to grow good. The powers that be are attempting to cleanse the streets of the night hawks who creep forth from their obscure lodgings to prey upon pleasure-seeking humanity." Perhaps Mr. Felstead's style, with its " thrill of horror in the land " and " powers that be " and so forth, has such a familiar journalistic ring that it tends to make us yawn instead of making us shudder or gape. His most interesting chapters are those in which he tells us all about the activities of the Flying Squad, a special detachment of highly trained detectives who are on duty day and night ready to rush out in an emergency to the scene of the crime, travelling in a fleet of fast motor-cars and motor-cycles. This pleasantly spectacular body, which surely ought to carry its own film-operators with it into action, has apparently worked wonders, and our author describes some of its exploits with great gusto. So efficient is this Flying Squad that " complaints as to the unsportsmanlike ' conduct of the police are growing increasingly bitter." As for the rogues we are shown, they are, on the whole, a dull, mono- tonous crowd, and perhaps the most entertaining of them all is the " Colonel," an old rascal who looked and acted like a retired officer, but who was really a " picker-up," that is, one who hangs about railway stations and, by means of a large bag with a false bottom to it, picks up and carries off any number of suit-cases, jewel-cases, and so on. There is a beautiful simplicity about this particular form of robbery • The Underworld of London. By Sidney Theodore Felatead. London : Murray, [is. 6d4
that is rather appealing, and the mental picture one has of the haughty, retired colonel flinging down his bag on top of someone else's, and then walking away with the two of them, is distinctly entertaining. So, on the whole, is Mr. Fe'stead's book, though he only occasionally rises to the height of the colonel.
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