And Haggerty paid his call promptly; only, Thomas saw him first. The
morning sun lighted up the rugged Irish face. Thomas not only saw him
but knew who he was, and in this he had the advantage of the encounter.
One of the first things a detective has to do is to surprise his man,
and then immediately begin to bullyrag and overbear him; pretend that
all is known, that the game is up. Nine times out of ten it serves,
for in the same ratio there is always a doubtful confederate who may
"peach" in order to save himself.

Thomas never stirred from his place against the rail. He drew on his
pipe and pretended to be stolidly interested in the sweating
stevedores, the hoist-booms and the brown coffee-bags.

A hand fell lightly on his shoulder. Haggerty had a keen eye for a
face; he saw weak spots, where a hundred other men would have seen
nothing out of the ordinary. The detective always planned his campaign
upon his interpretation of the face of the intended victim.

"Webb?"

Thomas lowered his pipe and turned. "Yes, sir."

"Where were you between 'leven an' twelve last night?"

"What is that to you, sir?" (Yeoman of the Guard style.)

"What did Jameson take away from you?"

"Who are you, and what's your business with me?" The pipe-stem