baubles, but no crook who is not a fool is going to pawn a
whole necklace on the Bowery the very next day after it has
been "lifted." Or he can enlist a private detective who will
question the servants and perhaps go through their trunks, if
they will let him. Either sort will probably line up the
inmates of the house for general scrutiny and try to bully
them separately into a confession. This may save the master a
disagreeable experience, but it is the simplest sort of police
work and is done vicariously for the taxpayer, just as the
public garbage man relieves you from the burden of taking out
the ashes yourself, because he is paid for it, not on account
of your own incapacity or his superiority.

The real detective is the one who, taking up the solution
of a crime or other mystery, brings to bear upon it unusual
powers of observation and deduction and an exceptional
resourcefulness in acting upon his conclusions. Frankly, I
have known very few such, although for some ten years I have
made use of a large number of so-called detectives in both
public and private matters. As I recall the long line of
cases where these men have rendered service of great value,
almost every one resolves itself into a successful piece of
mere spying or trailing. Little ingenuity or powers of reason
were required. Of course, there are a thousand tricks that an
experienced man acquires as a matter of course, but which at
first sight seem almost like inspiration. I shall not forget
my delight when Jesse Blocher, who had been trailing Charles
Foster Dodge through the South (when the latter was wanted
as the chief witness against Abe Hummel on the charge of
subornation of perjury of which he was finally convicted),