Select Story

The Black Satin Gown; or, Murder Will Out

by John Ross Dix


“Did I ever tell you about that curious murder in Bermondsey, and how I found out all about it—ay, and nabbed the criminals into the bargain?”

No,” replied I; “but 'twas a singular affair, so far as I am acquainted with the particulars.”

“I should say it mi—much more curious than half the stories you read in papers and magazines. Lord bless you, sir! We detectives see so many things in our line of business, that we could furnish a dozen story-tellers with better materials than they could trump up, if they harassed their brains till doomsday."

“No doubt,” I observed; “but suppose we have these glasses filled—and then, .perhaps, you'll tell me all about the matter. What will you take?”

Wall, sir, I'll have a little gin and water. I’ve to see a lady respecting a jewel robbery, this evening, and so must not take anything stronger—d'ye see * But, Lor' bless you! There are times when I'm obliged to drink grog by the painful. I've got to accommodate myself to all sorts of company.”

The speaker was Mr. Digg, a member of the London detective force. Never mind how I got to know him; enough to say that we were on pretty intimate terms, and that we were cosily sitting together in my apartment at the Golden Cross—Charing Cross. Mr. Digg was a middle-sized, sharp-faced man, with a keen gray eye that seemed to take in everything at a glance. Nothing was too small to escape his notice, and no Indian ever surpassed him in the perseverance and certainty with which he would follow up a trail when he had once “struck “it.

“One morning,” said the detective, "just as I was about sitting down to an early breakfast, congratulating myself on having a day of rest— for I had only come home from the North the evening before—a messenger from the chief of our… Read More