A Detective’s Story

For perhaps a month I had lounged about the various hotels in A———, in the luxury and expense of idleness, being entirely out of employment, and stopping with a particular friend of mine, whose success in business enterprise admitted of his boarding me until I obtained something to do. I had been beating the town in every possible manner to secure a situation, not feeling justified in entering my friend’s office upon the conditions which would become necessary in case I did; and these were that his only clerk, an energetic young fellow, should be discharged to make room for me. This I would not for a moment think of, as the widowed mother who depended on him[,] would be robbed thereby of her only means of support.

I was becoming tired of this state of affairs, and not a little discouraged, and was already resolving in my mind whether it would not be better to use what money I had left in seeking another field, for all my efforts thus far had proved a failure, when at last an opportunity presented itself in quite an unexpected way.

After leaving the reading room of the hotel, feeling disgusted with all mankind and myself too, I sought the residence of my friend, Schuyler Bree.

When I entered his cozy little parlor—made neat and tidy by the hands of the prettiest, most loving and affectionate wife I ever saw—I found Schuyler seated alone in smoking cap, gown and slippers, enjoying a fine havana, as was his custom, before retiring, for it was then about 10 p. m.

We had been old “chums,” at… Read More