The Night of Peril

A Detective’s Story

Of course it is to be expected that in a life like mine I should often be exposed to danger of a personal character; it is the lot of all detective officers, and I have been no exception to the rule. In the course of my life I have been subjected several times to extreme peril. In the following pages I am about to give an instance of such peril to the reader.

One day I was sent for by the president of the Bank of Commerce. When I arrived there I found the whole bank in a state of consternation. The safe had been broken into during the night, and all the specie abstracted. I immediately proceeded to examine the safe, and found that the locks had been forced; but a single glance was sufficient to show me that it had been forced after it had been opened, or, in other words, that whoever had taken the money had wished to convey the impression that it had been forced open from the outside. Of course I came at once to the conclusion that someone connected with the establishment had taken the money. While examining the spot, I found on the ground a single leaf of a white Provence rose. It is the observation of small things that makes a good detective, for it is often the most trivial circumstances, which supplies the first link in the chain. I did not pick up this rose leaf, nor indeed appear to notice it. After the scrutiny was over, I went to the president’s, Mr. Cameron, apartment.

“Well, Brampton,” said he, “what do you make out of it?”

“Do you suspect anybody connected with the bank?” I asked.

“Certainly not! It is impossible that anybody connected with the bank could have committed the robbery; it must have been the work of burglars. Did you visit the cellar where the robbers entered?”

“Yes, and found that the bars had been filed from the inside.”

“Indeed!—but what do you make out about the safe?”