The Sun.
London, England, 1863-12-26 00:00:00

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WHAT DETEC IV S BALLY Da!

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A COLONIAL HERO.

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The West Australian Times of Oct. 15 contains the fol-
lowing :—An incident in the life of a poor man was rclated
last week in the course of our criminal sessions that, in a
former age, would have excited general admiration. Two
shepherds were in charge of cno of the flecks of Mr. John
Hassell, at a remote station. There was no other station
within 20 miles of them. One afternoon, some time ago,
one of these men while occupied in his hut. which was only
composed of stakes and rushes, fancied he heard a groan at
a little aistance. Going outside ho spin heard the sound
of low moaning, and soon discovered his companion, Chas.
Storey, lying insensible in. a brake, and covered with innu-
merable spear wounds, Carrying him on his back to tie
hut, lie laid him on his kangaroo skin rug, washed and
probed his wounds, succeeded in Extracting the Barb of a
spear which was buried in his side, and ultimately restored
him to consciousness. It turned out that Storey had been
attacked by a band of natives who wished to seize the sheep.
This was admitted by the native witnesses at the trial of
one of the party for the murder of Storey, who eventually
died of his wounds.
The two unfortunate men remained awake all night—
one in extreme pain, the other carefully attending upon
him. Next morning the natives surrounde ashe hut, and
began throwing spears, which completely psed through
both sides of it. Finding that they would be murdered,
Edward Ladbury, the witness, who told the tale in
simple, unvarnished terms, took his only weapons, his
pocket knife and bill-hook, and boldly sallied forth. no
had covered the bill-hook with his coat, so as only to dis-
play the handle, which the natives took to be a pistol, lie
threatened to fire upon them unless they withdrew, and
after some deliberation they eullonly retired. Allting that
th
day the h
t Storey saided h
ni men
mainefear of their return. Du
felt better, and they resolved to
endeavour to make their escape to Mr. Ilasselre next sta-
tion, 20 miles distant. At 2 o'clock in the Morning they
stole out of the hut. Edward Ladbury was laden with
their bedding and effects, and Storey clung to Lis arm.
After crawling about 150 yards the Wounded said
he could go no farther, and urged men
Ladbury to leave him
fate, and save himself.
to his It appeared to be almost
impossible to rescue Storey, but Ladbury determined not
co leave him to certain death. I.le hurried forward with
his load and deposited it a
quarter of a mile off, then re'
turned for his comrade) hoisted him on his back, and
carried him to the same spot, where
he exchanged him
for their personal effectsof these poor
fellows), which he again (the solo propertyte of
a mile fur-
ther. Then h
--e returned carried
for his friend, riaar rand thus they
journeyed, one nearly u de and the other
dead of hisa
exhausted With his distance of seven miles,
when they reached aexserrti.onsa,ffworater.
Sere they remained
a while, scarcely able') tnogcrawl any further. Ladbury
could no longer carry Storey, but he managed to drag
him along. After a miserable journey of two days and a
night they reached Mr. Hassell's station at Jerrymungup,
both of them nearly dead. The wounded man, after ne-
cessary rest, was sent forward in a cart to the hospital at
Albany, where his sufferings were terminated by death.
Few men have better deserved the Victoria cross than this
humble shepherd, Edward Ladbury. What struck us most
forcibly about the matter was, that his conduct elicited not
a single comment or remark from either court, counsel,
From which he are inclined to infer that such
or jury.
are far from singular or uncommon in this country.
acts Fer
our own part, we feel it to be only one degree lower
than a crime to allow such an instance of generous self.
devotion to pass without the tribute of applause; and,
although in this, as in most other cases, virtue is likely
to be its own reward, Edward Ladbury may return to
his hard life with the consciousness that he has nobly
earned th,e sympathy and approbation of his fellow-colo.
nists.

A fantastic novel by
dit." Theophile
M. Louis Ulbach, who reviews
has "devoured those three
on,touching as a romance,
i t
is A
calledF LAV„ FLAVOUR Rm.
aOuF THE L LAST t
iFe
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dicines: they always ar,-,r
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b:slieiesni/Eas2cp3eBiierNuartsh. statesi_.a,,
At
confession,
: ed hms
so
ei
:riles them, restoring
times
nstarongranerves, sound lungs, healthy liver,
valeiits
cost chronicin
other
t Icomplaints,i
c r
t remedies,A
bbi
cilia:.
invariably
aal
b.l, al
Nyry rheyiu
.'
sleep, functional regularity, and energy
to the most disordered or enfeebled. We extract a few out
of 60,000 Cures :—Cure No. 58,216 W.' the Marchioness do
pli:euerrsfetert Restoring
blood,g Iterefreshings etvi
digestion,
BrOlan, Paris, of a liver complaint, wasting away for seven
years, debility, with a nervous palpitation all over, bad
a‘,.i tdigestion,a t i o ii
„ csonnds tdarne ta sdl
dreadfully
Stuart dc Decies, Lord Licut. of Waterford, of manY years'
ylelsoswnesspsit-rhiteemd._osctintolerable nervous
dyspepsia.—No. 49,832. " Fifty years' innicieesNcroibla, b 7 71
fel' agonyaiLordn
from dyspepsia, nervousness asthma, cough,
constipation,
!jolly."
flatulency, spasms, sickness, and vomiting.—Mar,urrey, of
—Cure No. 46,270. Mr. James Roberts, of Frimlelyt,rD
derange
thirty years' diseased lungs, spitting of blood,
plcriles Elizabeth
xnent, and partial deafness.—Cure No.
Jacobs, of extreme nervousness, indige4s7t:ll4/26n11:
n 6 The Rev. Jag,
spirits, and nervous fancies.—Cure Nfo• -
judigestion and torpi-
T. Campbell, Fakenham, Norfolk,
al°all medical treatment."
dity 01 the liver, which had resistas;b , ._s. ; gatherings, low
its. 121 b., 225. ; :41b
In tins, 1 lb., 2s. Pd. ; 21b., gs.
tki:
77, liege at-street, Loudon ;
40s.—Barry Cu Barry and Co., No. Gr0t2,1".5-- and Chemists in
also Fortnum and Mason ; and.. v_
every town of the United Ellai.a al.

is a curious question to ask what detectives 0411044.
how they flo it—how much crime is found outethia4o,: aftc
agency,lgl what are the means they emplew Thi*i ea.
wretched private detectives, as they call theraselVes, y who
•
offer their services to get up scandals, do unquesth?nably
pick up or invent a mass of gossip; and it is by no noclitns
a pleasant reflection that any one who owes another' it "
grudge can hire a scoundrel to spy out all the details of his
enemy's life, in the hope of securing some base end by
daring the man he has spied to face publicity. There are,
we suppose, some private detectives of a higher stamp; but
putting these people aside, what do the detecti,res employed
in a proper and responsible way, by official authority, really
do ? We believe that the experience of all lawyers who
have had much to do with the working of the criminal law
is that the detectives do exceedingly little. The crimes
which are found out, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred,
reveal themselves. The police merely conduct an inquiry
which is perfectly obvious. A dead body is found, and the
law sets a particular set of persons to make inquiry about
it. The police ask simple questions of the people most
likely to knew, and get answers which show who was the
murderer. It is true that the police in such a ease discover
the criminal, but this is merely heeguse the
police are the
persons paid to go through this easy process. If a crime
has been committed of a kind to make detection complicated
the police may obtain some clue by simply exhausting all
the chances of finding something to guide. They have
unbounded time before them; if they succeed, they are
complimented and paid extra; it they fail, they are still
paid as much as their labour is worth in the market. They
have also the prestige of the law to help them, and in most
cases, in England, there is a general desire in the popula-
tion that the offender should be brought to justice. But
they have not anything more, and if the concealment of the
crime is such as to baffie the investigation of persons who
are armed with the authority of the law, and can afford to
take plenty of time in the search, the crime almost always
remains undetected. There is no such thing, unless in very
exceptional cases,
as sending to London for skilled detec-
tives who, by some magical art, can hunt out a crime un-
diecoverable by a decent set of competent policemen work-
ing in the ordinary way.
The main use of calling in the
services of London policemen is,
that themyen sent skre
most alkaattattAvirenlsraruntaaluitaet4,"V fi,Y.:
grois blunders a the outset. They erayebe use ul in pre-
venting the local authoritiesi from doing off the wrong
scents and so losing time. But when they set to work, they
can but work as all men of sense and experience would
work in conducting such an inquiry, and have no special
secret or art of their own. Then what can detectives really do?
They can do two things if they aro masters of the business.
They can catch, better than most men, a person supposed to
have committed a crime; and, secondly, when they have
caught him, they can deal with him better than most per-
sons can. Both these things are distinct from unravelling
the secret of a crime. The detectives could not find out the
clue to the Road murder; but if they had fixed reasonable
suspicion on any person, and that person had tried to run
away, they would have effected his capture better than any
ordinary men of intelligence could have done. This is
partly from experience and partly from a natural capacity
for acting. A man accustomed to hunt criminals gets a
general idea of what criminals are likely to do—what ports,
for example, they are likely to embark at, or what are the
most common devices for throwing suspicion on other people.
Then, again, the detective has, or ought to have, a turn for
acting, and a good deal of practice in acting. fie has the
face and figure which admit of disguises : he can, in tech-
nical language, make up well; and when he is made up, he
can behave as a person of his assumed character would be-
have. He can do at least as well as a fair farce actor could.
He knows how to dress as a waiter, as a clergyman, as a
commercial traveller, and he is tolerably at home in his dis-
guises. Wherever the fugitive is, he must, unless in soli-
tude or in a regular den of thieves, be among people inno-
cently pursuing the ordinary business of life, and regardless
of im
isguard against exceptional people who
look engaged on special business, and whose
werespecial business may be to catch him ; but he cannot be on
has if lie
they is
on h
his guard against all the people who seem to bo doing only
what they do every day, and to be going on without any
reference to him and his crime. It is the part of the detec-
tive to pretend to be one of these people, and to act t
so nun.turally that the fugitive is entrapped and in order act
the part the manageable figure and
detective must have a
face, and knew how to talk naturally, and be willing and
the spur of the mo-
ready to tell a vast amount of lies on
ment. Then, again, when the prey is bagged and the de-
tective has revealed himself as a detective, and has his
criminal in his grasp, he often, from experience of criminals,
and from the general quickness which a life like his fosters,
can deal with his man in a very effective way. He can,
perhaps, read in the captive's face whether he is guilty or
not, and if he looks guilty ho can often make defence vir-
tually impossible by boldly accusing him of the crime, while
beforehand the detective had no more than a general sus-
picion.—Saturday licrietc.

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