The Clever Detective

Although of Wood He was Worth a Dozen of the Ordinary Kind

“Who is the new man on the force?” 

There was no answer. None of the officers assembled at headquarters knew [anything] concerning him except that the inspector had brought him in quietly a few evenings before and introduced him as Sergeant Fetchem. The strange inappropriateness of such a name for a detective had struck them at once, but the new man had gone to work without a word as if thoroughly familiar with his duties, and his first job had been the arrest of a burglar whom he had caught in the act and overpowered, bringing him to the station alone, despite the fact that the prisoner was a burly, powerful fellow nearly twice the size of his captor. 

Every day since his accession to the force he had signalized himself by some unheard-of exploit. He had discovered a nest of counterfeiters, arrested and put in jail a hitherto unsuspected Anarchist whose attic was full of dynamite bombs, and located a bank embezzler who had eluded the police for two whole years. All this he had done as a matter of course, and had listened impassively to the encomiums passed upon his singular skill and adroitness. The other members of the detective corps began to grow jealous, and a watch was put upon his actions. He had no difficulty in evading them in the performance of his duties, but they made the discovery that he was closeted with the inspector for about five minutes every Monday morning. The most diligent effort failed to discover the object of these conferences, if such they were, for no conversation between the chief and the new detective ever reached the ears of the… Read More