But the most notorious prisoners in Millbank were not always to be found on the “male side.” Equally famous in their own way were some of the female convicts—women like Alice Grey, whose career of imposture at the time attracted great attention, and was deservedly closed by committal to Millbank on a long sentence of transportation. Alice Grey was a young lady of artless appearance and engaging manners. Her favourite form of misconduct was to bring false charges against unfortunate people who had never seen her in their lives. Thus, she accused two boys of snatching a purse from her hand in the street, and when a number were paraded for her inspection she readily picked out the offenders. “Her evidence was so ingenuous,” says the report, “that her story was implicitly believed, and the boys were remanded for trial.” As a sort of compensation to Miss Grey (her real name was “Brazil,” but she had several—among others, Anastasia Haggard, Felicia Macarthy, Jane Tureau, Agnes Hemans, etc.) she was given a good round sum from the poor-box. But she was not always so successful. She was sentenced to three months in Dublin for making a false charge, and eighteen months soon afterwards at Greenock. At Stafford she accused a poor working man of stealing her trunk, value £8; when put into the box she was taxed with former mistakes of this kind, whereupon she showed herself at once in her true colours and reviled every one present in a long tirade of abuse. Her cleverness was, however, sufficient to have made her fortune if she had turned her talents to honest account.
There was more dash about women like Louisa M. or Emily L. The former drove up to Hunt and Roskell’s in her own carriage to look at some bracelets. They were for Lady Campbell, and she was Miss Constance Browne. Her bankers were Messrs. Cocks and Biddulph. Finally she selected bracelets and head ornaments to the value of £2,500, which were to be brought to her house that evening by two assistants from the shop, who accordingly called at the hour named. The door was opened by a page. “Pray walk upstairs.” Miss Browne walks in. “The bracelets? Ah, I will take them up to Lady Campbell, who is confined to her room.” The head assistant demurred a little, but Miss Browne said, “Surely you know my bankers? I mentioned them to-day. Messrs. Hunt and Roskell have surely satisfied themselves?” With that the jewels were taken upstairs. Half an hour passes. One assistant looks at the other. Another half hour. What does it mean? One rings the bell. No answer. The other tries the door. It is locked. Then, all at once discovering the trap, they both throw up the window and call in the police. They are released, but the house is empty. Pursuit, however, is set on foot, and Miss Constance Browne is captured the same night in a second class carriage upon the Great Western Railway, and when searched she was found to have on her a quantity of diamonds, a £100 note, rings and jewelry of all sorts, including the missing bracelets. She had laid her plans well. The house—which was Lady Campbell’s—she had hired furnished, that day, paying down the first instalment of rent. The page she had engaged and fitted with livery also that very day, and the moment he had shown up the jeweller’s men she had sent him to the Strand with a note. Here was cleverness superior to that of Alice Grey.