Passaic City record., 1891-09-19
WHY HE FAILED.

SeSs, duo LAS peen nappieI nan eser
since.
There is no one but myseIf in England
now who knows exactly how it hap
pened, and as was thinking over it to-
night (something in the papers about a
clever detective in New York brought it
all fresh back to my mind) it seemed to
me such queer story altogether that l
think it will interest Others to know it.
must just alter one or two of the
names, that's all, because it is not so
very long ago since it happened, and 1t
came out in one or two papers at the
time, but all more or less wide of the
mark. None of them had just the rights
of it.
You see, no one could make out how
Allan got away so easily-no one knows
except my friend and I, and one man
over the seas, and not even the cutest
Yankee could ever guess the truth.
1t is stranger than fiction, as you will
find. But this is the story.
Iput it short enough, for writing is
not in my line. I can think things out
in my head, and turn them over and
over, till there is not much left of them
that has not been put through the sieve,
so to speak, but when it comes to pen
and ink I'm poor hand. 1t means sit
ting down indoors for hours, and that /
am not used to. No, thank heaven, l
can earn my bread by something else, or
very little bread would come to me, and
no chance of butter or cheese.
This is not my story at all; mean,
not about my own life. It is about a
friend of mine, George Markson.
If told you hisr name you would
probably remember at once; he was one
of the best known detectives of that
time Talk about five senses. George
had ten at least. He could see round a
case, and through man, and into your
mind almost, and tell you what you were
thinking of, better than you knew your
self.
And all so quiet-you would not think
he saw much, but he had seen everything
at glance, and forgotten nothing. 1
have known him look into a room that
be, had never seen before, and in the
evening, when we were sitting together,
he would describe that room, down to
the makers name on the clock, as mi
nuteiy as If he were holding picture
OF it in his hand at the time.
He worked on his own account, and
he had constant and well-paid employ
ment, since the day he tracked the man
who robbed the Bank of Westminster;
you may remember the Casa daring
daylight robbery.
He traced him after long search to
Paris, and spotted him there as gar
con in a cafe-a good disguise too.
George was in Spain after that for long
time, and then went to Cairo, SO I did
not see him for more than year. He
came back with reputation more bril-
liant than ever, and settled down into
the same rooms he had shared with me
before he left.
He was a middle-aged man when l
knew him, and the severe mental strain
of his employment, together with home
troubles, made him seem older than he
was.
His wife, to whom he had been much
attached, had died many years before.
His only son, too, had turned out badly,
got into debt (the old story of weak
will influenced by bad companions), and
then had emigrated to the gold dig
gings, and was believed to have died
there, after few more wasted years of
riot and dissipation.
His father had built many hopes on
his only son, and carried about an un-
healed wound caused by the bitter dis
appointment of all his expectations.
At the time am writing about, I saw
there was something more than usual on
Georges mind.
He never talked much about what he
was engaged in, and took care never to
plague him with questions, but it hap
pened that chum of mine, named Miles,
told me that George had missed good
clue, and that another man, named Smol-
lett, was beginning to make a name, and
was now bent on outdoing George.
Once run to earth some one whom
George had failed to trace, and his rep
utation was sure.
To outshine one of the best men then
at work was high game to try for, but
Smollett was trying no less.
Not long after, l met Miles again in
Oxford street. He told me that Smol-
lett had scored again, and that George
lad missed find he had made pretty
sure OF.
pooh-poohed the whole thing.
ssChance, all chance. Fine thing for
Smollett, more luck than good manage
ment, no doubt" ssid, feeling rather
nettled, own. ''Wait bit; you will
see which is the best man of the
two."
sI'll back SIN" said Miles, but he
remembered that George was my friend
and said no mole.
came across Miles in very nearly the
same place next day. s'Heard the lat
est?'' he shodted, and then proceeded to
explain that forger, who had been
wanted for some time, was supposed to
be in London, and that large reward
vas offered for him.
al.