A Detective's Story

How He Learned by Accident Who It Was That Stole Mr. Williams' Money

A fair share of the detective business of every city in the land hinges upon family matters, writes an old detective in the New York Sun, and the work done seldom appears in print, or if the newspaper reporters get hold of the circumstance, the particulars are kept away from them. For a long term of years my assignments as a detective connected with the force of one of our large cities were entirely of this character, and some of the incidents can be related without injury to anyone’s feelings. I did not associate with the criminal detectives at all, and the majority of them did not know me by name.

One morning I was sent for by the chief to take up a new case, and when I entered his office I found a lady present. She was a woman not over twenty-five years of age, handsome, educated, and a society ornament. She was the second wife of a rich old merchant whom I will call Williams. They had been married about a year and a half, and it was said that it was a love match. She had come to headquarters in her own carriage in broad daylight to tell her story to the chief and seek the services of a detective. I may tell you that I was prejudiced in her favor from the very first glance. She was one of those women whose every word is of interest, and whose every gesture has a touch of artlessness in it. And she could shed big tears, and catch little sobs, and put such a look into her brown eyes as would make even an old detective almost want to die for her. When her story had been simmered down it amounted to this: For some time past she had been missing jewelry and sums of money. A private detective had been employed, but had met with no success in discovering the thief. One robbery included a valuable diamond ring; another a pair of earrings; a third a sum of $400 in… Read More