A Detective Story

One day, as I returned to police headquarters, after having put in several hours on a till tapping case, I found a queer looking old man awaiting me. He was, I should say, at least 55. He wore a reddish wig, shaved clean, was very precise about his clothing, and was eccentric in speech and action. As he met me, he said:

“Dem it, sir, but you should have more manners than to keep me cooling my heels around a place like this!”

“But I didn’t know you were here.”

“But it was your business to know! Dem it, sir. I am put out with you, sir!”

“Well, I am here, and now what can I do for you?”

“Resign your place here at once!”

“What?”

“Can’t you understand the English language? Resign, sir.”

“For what reason?”

“That you may engage with me.”

He handed me his card, and I saw that his name was Ronald Terry. After a bit he informed me that he was an old bachelor, with plenty of cash, and that he had a scheme on hand which he wished to work out. He offered to engage me for two years at four times the salary I was then receiving, but would not tell me what the work was. After two or three interviews with him and after ascertaining from trustworthy men that he was what he represented himself, I closed with his offer. The day I entered upon his service he said to me:

“You have been in most of the large cities of the United States. Did you ever happen to notice a situation like this: A street about fifty feet wide running off a business street at an angle, but only two blocks long before it ended at a bluff? This short street is built up with brick houses. On the first corner on the right is a drug store. The intersecting street is hardly wider than an alley and is not paved.”

“I think you will find something very like it in almost any city, excepting the bluff. It is not unusual for streets to come in that way.”… Read More