The Gold Bag | Page 5

he is still sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots down to
be cleaned, instead of coming down with them on his feet to be shined
here. If he had been merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would
have been home early, for they do not sit up late in that borough. I
know they went to the theatre, instead of to the opera or a ball, for they
did not go in a cab, otherwise her skirt would not have become
muddied. This, too, shows that she wore a cloth skirt, and as his shoes
are not patent leathers, it is clear that neither was in evening dress."

I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions; I didn't
want any. Scores of times I had known him to make similar deductions
and in cases where we afterward learned the facts, he was invariably
correct. So, though we didn't follow up this matter, I was sure he was
right, and, even if he hadn't been, it would not have weighed heavily
against his large proportion of proved successes.
We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each other,
and, with a sigh of regret that I could never hope to go far along the line
in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began to read my morning
paper.
Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a good-by as he
passed me, and a moment after, my own foot-gear being in proper
condition, I, too, went out, and went straight to my office.
As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's quick-witted
work. Again I wished that I possessed the kind of intelligence that
makes that sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, after all, a trait
of many minds, though often, perhaps, unrecognized and undeveloped
by its owner. I dare say it lies dormant in men who have never had
occasion to realize its value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value to
anyone but a detective, and nine detectives out of ten do not possess it.
So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached my
office just at ten o'clock as was my almost invariable habit.
"Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!" cried my office-boy, as I opened the door.
"You're wanted on the telephone."
Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had
made him a trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as I
took up the receiver.
But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, and my
own nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. It was from
the Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the
superintendent himself was directing me to go at once to West
Sedgwick, where a terrible crime had just been discovered.
"Killed!" I exclaimed; "Joseph Crawford?"
"Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned
to send a detective at once and we want you to go."
"Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?"
"No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found this

morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr.
Burroughs; we want you to lose no time."
Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I
knew he was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death
would mean excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or
home-life, I knew nothing.
"I'll go right off," I assured the Chief, and turned away from the
telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains in
a timetable.
"Good boy, Don," said I approvingly; "what's the next train to West
Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?"
"You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi
an' shoot the tunnel," said Donovan, who was rather a graphic
conversationalist. "That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter
of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?"
"So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in financial
circles."
"Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz.
When'll you be back?"
"Don't know, Don. You look after things."
"Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when
you have 'em."
By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had
suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief's
orders to lose no time.
Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could
possibly be to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues were
obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experience
with the police