The way by which he contrived to come upon the secret store of a notorious receiver of stolen goods was more excusable. This man’s operations were well known to the police, but they had failed to bring his crime home to him. Vidocq met him one day and claimed his acquaintance, calling him by a name different from his own. The receiver declared it was all a mistake, but Vidocq persisted, adding that he knew the man was wanted by the police. Whereupon the other said: “Let us go to the nearest police station, where I shall easily find someone who can speak positively upon my identity as a resident of this quarter.” It was an incautious move, for Vidocq, on reaching the station, still refused to believe that the man was not the person he had declared him to be, and called upon him with an air of authority to produce his papers. None were forthcoming, and Vidocq begged that he might be searched, when twenty-five double napoleons and three gold watches were found upon his person, somewhat suspicious property. The man was now detained until he could be taken before a magistrate, and the articles found in his pockets were wrapped in his own handkerchief. Vidocq, armed with this, visited the receiver’s house, saw his wife and showed the handkerchief, which she recognised at once. “I thought you ought to know,” went on Vidocq, noticing that she was greatly perturbed, “that your husband has been arrested. Everything found on him has been seized, and he believes that he has been betrayed. I come from him to beg you to have all the property, you know what I mean, removed, as these premises are to be searched immediately, and something compromising may be found.” The woman, thoroughly alarmed, begged Vidocq, whom she looked upon as a friend, to go out and bring back three hackney coaches. When they arrived they were loaded up with articles of every description, timepieces, candelabra, Etruscan vases, cloths, cashmeres, linens, muslins, etc. At the proper moment the police surrounded the coaches, and more than enough was at once found to convict the receiver.
One of the most remarkable robberies in Paris was that of the collection of old coins and medals from the Royal Library, now known as the National Library in the rue Richelieu. This collection is reputed one of the finest in the world, and, besides a couple of hundred thousand coins, contains a great number of cut gems and antiques, dating back into the earliest times. Cameos, crystals, agate goblets, bronzes, ivories, sacrificial cups of massive gold, choice medallions, tankards richly chased by artists whose names have not survived, and so on, are among its treasures. The news of the robbery was received with dismay at the Prefecture. An immediate inspection made by the police showed how cleverly the thieves had gained admission to the cabinet containing the collection of medals. They gained access to a neighboring house, and ascended to the roof and slid over the slates to a garret window in the library. They broke through this, reached the back stairs and slipped down into the principal salon. A solid oak door at the north end of the salon shut off the medal room, but the thieves sawed through it, and entered the inner room, which was lighted by a large window opening on to the rue Richelieu. It was easy enough to break into the cases, sweep up a large number of the precious coins and lower them to the confederates in the street below.