The Detective’s Story
How a Chicago Policeman Wooed and Won His Bride in Days of Yore
Chicago Times.
The lieutenant had called the roll of incoming policemen, the second platoon had marched away in the night to stand its six hours’ watch over the fortunes of the city, and quiet once more resumed its reign at Madison street station. Uncle Ben sat at his desk scratching away, with the methodical precision born of twenty years’ experience, at the record of some crime whose perpetrator was behind the bars; Jo, the turnkey, lounged about with his everlasting pipe and his eternal good nature, allowing that the night was “too darned hot for any use,” and a half-dozen or so roundsmen, off duty and tired, were scattered in various attitudes around the office indulging in a social smoke before seeking the rest they so much needed and had so well earned. To this little glimpse, not of Arcadia but of latent power and law-born force, there entered a Times reporter and a detective who, in connection with his “partner,” has earned an enviable reputation for courage, sagacity and success. The two were discussing the various phases of criminal life which a great city like Chicago can hold up to the public gaze and horror, and the man of paper was lamenting the prospect that the dawning Sunday would not yield anything sensational enough to be worthy of an extended “write up.”
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