"What would you do in my place?"

"In your place," his friend answered quietly, "I should not waste time
and money in consulting the police."

"Not consult the police!" exclaimed Mr. Troy in amazement. "Surely, I
have not made myself understood? I am going to the Head Office; and
I have got a letter of introduction to the chief inspector in the
detective department. I am afraid I omitted to mention that?"

"It doesn't make any difference," proceeded the other, as coolly as
ever. "You have asked for my advice, and I give you my advice. Tear
up your letter of introduction, and don't stir a step further in the
direction of Whitehall."

Mr. Troy began to understand. "You don't believe in the detective
police?" he said.

"Who _can_ believe in them, who reads his newspaper and remembers
what he reads?" his friend rejoined. "Fortunately for the detective
department, the public in general forgets what it reads. Go to your
club, and look at the criminal history of our own time, recorded in the
newspapers. Every crime is more or less a mystery. You will see that
the mysteries which the police discover are, almost without exception,
mysteries made penetrable by the commonest capacity, through the
extraordinary stupidity exhibited in the means taken to hide the
crime. On the other hand, let the guilty man or woman be a resolute and
intelligent person, capable of setting his (or her) wits fairly against
the wits of the police--in other words, let the mystery really _be_
a mystery--and cite me a case if you can (a really difficult and