There are several reasons for this little book, but the best of all is the main reason—that it is a cracking good story, and right out of life. The characters will be found interesting, and they are real people, every one of them. The incidents are full of action and color. The plot has mystery, surprise, interplay of mind and motive—had a novelist invented it, the reader might declare it improbable. This is the kind of story that is fundamental—the kind Mr. Chesterton says is so necessary to pl

John P. Barron, Edward Boyle, Frank Campbell, James Dalton, James J. Finan, John W. Finn, Joseph A. Daly, Daniel W. Clare, John Gaynor, Anthony Grieco, John P. Griffith, Daniel F. Hallihan, Edward Lennon, Henry Mugge, Richard Oliver, Gustavus J. Riley, James F. Shevlin, Joseph Toner, George Trojan, James A. Watson. Detectives, policemen, informants, witnesses, denizens of the underworld, newspaper reporters, trainmen, ticket sellers, etc., etc. Place —Chiefly in New York, with Scenes in Chicago,

On Thursday, February 15, 1912, the New York evening papers had a startling news story. Between ten and eleven o’clock that morning two messengers were sent in a taxicab from the East River National Bank, at Broadway and Third street, to draw $25,000 in currency from the Produce Exchange National Bank, at Broadway and Beaver street, in the downtown financial district, and bring it uptown. This transfer of money had been made several times a week for so long a period without danger or loss that t

The taxicab robbery took place on a quiet morning like this. Suddenly, around eleven o’clock on Thursday, February 15, a brief message comes from the second precinct, stating that a robbery has been committed in the financial district. A little later there is a fuller report over police wires. The details are few, as will be seen by the general alarm that presently goes out over the city: Police Department, City of New York , To all, all Boroughs—notify the patrol platoon immediately. Arrest for

When Montani, the taxicab driver, arrived at Police Headquarters, he was willing to talk, and seemed anxious to help the police in every way. He knew suspicion might be directed toward himself, but did not resent that. He talked like a man confident of the truth of his story, and certain that he would be found blameless. Montani is an Italian, from the northern part of Italy, about 30 years old, five feet six inches high, rather stout and thick-set, with very dark complexion. The striking featur

The law-abiding citizen goes around New York with little knowledge of the crowding underworld all about him. It is perhaps just as well that he knows nothing of the lives and morals of hundreds of people who elbow him on the streets, sit beside him in the cars, and scrutinize him with a strictly professional eye in many places. Nor has he any clear conception of the relations that a good police officer maintains with members of this underworld. It is a world just as complete as that of business

All through Friday and Saturday, while the network investigation was going on, Commissioner Dougherty continued his examination of Montani. Some important information against him now came from outside. It developed that Montani had been involved several months before in an insurance case, claiming indemnity for a burned automobile under a policy. He had presented, as part of its value, a bill for repairs amounting to $1,348. The insurance company, however, had found that this bill was fraudulent

As soon as Inspector Hughes returned from Boston, on Monday morning, the Commissioner took steps to question the crews of every train that had left New York since one p. m. on the day of the robbery. Just the other afternoon the writer sat with a squad of young detectives at Police Headquarters and heard a talk on methods given by Dougherty, and one point clearly brought out was the usefulness to the thief-catcher of routine information. He began by relating an amusing incident. Some days before

Monday, February 19, was an important day in more ways than one. While the train investigation was going on, it was learned that a woman known as “Myrtle Horn,” an intimate of Annie’s, had moved to a lower West Side rooming house, taking Annie’s trunk with her, as though Annie expected to return to the city. After a preliminary survey, this house was visited by Commissioner Dougherty in person. He explained that he was a contractor, about to build a section of the new subway, and that he was loo

On Monday, too, Montani was arraigned in court, and discharged for what appeared to be lack of any evidence against him. At this point the Commissioner took the liberty of fooling the newspaper men for the good of his case. Newspaper criticism for three days had been particularly severe. Editors made many charges, and were fertile in suggestions as what ought to be done to reorganize the presumably “demoralized” police department. The present writer feels confident, however, that a careful searc

It was on the day after Montani’s release that Commissioner Dougherty began to uncover more interesting characters in the taxicab drama. Bit by bit, through points supplied by informants and persons who had come in contact with him in various ways, a very good working knowledge of the fugitive Kinsman was pieced together. It appeared that he had come to New York the previous summer, from Boston, and after a brief career as a boxer, had gone to work in a Sixth avenue resort known as the “Nutshell

It was on this day, too (Tuesday, February 20), that “Swede Annie” suddenly stepped into police view, wearing a new hat . She turned up quietly at the house where Myrtle Horn had moved with her trunk, and began living in the front basement room. Matron Goodwin and “Plant 21” immediately reported her presence, and from that time the shadow men across the street had something to do besides driving nails. For whenever Annie or Myrtle went out of the house they were followed. Shadowing is a highly i

It was now Wednesday, February 21, and all the careful detail work began to come together. It was this day that Detective Watson found the crew of Train No. 13, on the New York Central, which had taken Kinsman, Annie and Splaine aboard at Peekskill the afternoon of the robbery after they had ridden out of New York in a taxicab to avoid possible police surveillance at the railroad stations. Commissioner Dougherty dispatched Watson to Peekskill and Albany with thorough instructions. His motto in w

By Thursday many loose ends of the case were being brought together so effectually that the outlook seemed exceedingly bright. But only to the executive circle in Dougherty’s office. Outside, all was dark. Newspaper criticism had become more caustic than ever, and the public, after the ingrained habit of New York, was turning its attention to fresher news sensations. At a big annual dinner of police officials held that evening, February 22, the atmosphere of gloom resting upon the department was

When Daly and Clare, the two New York detectives working as the “Orange Growers,” arrived in Chicago, they went to Police Headquarters in that city, made inquiries about Kinsman and Splaine, and secured the aid of Chicago detectives. Then they put up at a hotel where, by arrangements with the house detective, they occupied a room on the second floor handy to a little-used stairway leading to a side street, which would make it easy to slip in and out without going through the lobby. On the trip f

On Saturday afternoon, February 24, while most of the energy of the Detective Bureau was centered on the taxicab case, a brutal murder was committed in Brooklyn. Word came that a Flatbush merchant had been found dead in his store, shot by unknown criminals whose motive was robbery. They had taken his watch and five safety razors. Inspector Hughes was sent to the scene of the crime, and Commissioner Dougherty quickly followed. The murder occurred about one p. m. By six o’clock the same day the nu

The next prisoner examined was Jess Albrazzo, a dark little Italian, who appeared to be somewhat ignorant. In this examination the Commissioner had ample outside proof, and he also employed what he calls his “psychological study.” Years ago, in dealing with negro suspects in Southern crime, Dougherty devised a little instrument which he dubbed his “lie watch.” This was a dial with a needle, hung round the suspect’s neck. If the latter told the truth, the needle presumably pointed to “Truth,” and

True to his word, “Jimmie the Push” walked into Police Headquarters at nine o’clock Tuesday morning, February 27, closely followed by his unseen shadowers. He produced the key of the safe-deposit vault, and went with officers to see the money recovered. There was $2,000, as Jess had stated, still in the wrappers of the bank. Jimmie was still permitted to go free, under the impression that he had come through the ordeal “clean,” while fresh evidence was being obtained against him. That morning th

The next step in the case was that of arresting “Jimmie the Push” and his partner, Bob Deilio. Another phase of the robbery now began to come out plainly. Up to the present time the main burden of proof pointed to the four “hold-up” men of American birth as the chief actors in the crime. Montani and Jess, the two Italians, appeared to be accessories. But as the tangled threads were unravelled, one by one, it was found that the Italians involved outnumbered the American thugs, and that furthermor

The actual whereabouts of the “Three Brigands” was not known to the police then. But there were certain channels through which news might reach at least one of them. Word was sent through those channels, therefore, that it might be best for them to appear and give an account of themselves, and on Friday, March 1, just at the time Splaine had been brought back from Memphis, the little leader of the brigands, Matteo Arbrano, an undersized Italian wearing spectacles, who had carried out the job of

It has been the writer’s good fortune to look into the work of both the London and the New York policemen recently, within the same year. A somewhat embarrassing point arose. In London, the “bobby” was anxious to know which police force the writer considered best. The “bobby” gets his ideas of the New York “cop” from such accounts as filter through the cable dispatches from our newspapers. He hears chiefly the worst, and pictures the “cop” as a lawless individual, wielding pistol and club indisc