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[2]
DETECTIVE STORIES.
From the Diary of a New York Detective.
EDITED BY FRANK PEMMON.
A Chance Meeting.
Several years ago I was detailed to undertakethe solution of a mystery surrounding a robberywhich had baffled the police for a month ormore. Then two detectives had been set atwork upon it and had failed to locate thethief. I was given the case. I did not exactlysucceed in finding the thief, but I brought himto justice, just the same. How, you shall see.
The house of Mr. Bond had been brokeninto and a large amount of jewelry stolen.Among the latter was a handsome gold watchbelonging to the daughter of Mr. Bond. Ithad been a birthday present from her mother,and was highly prized by her. Her fatheroffered a large reward for its recovery. Icalled at the home of Mr. Bond to get a descriptionof the missing jewelry and whatever otherinformation the family could give me. Thiswas little enough. The jewelry had beenstolen and no trace of the thief was to befound. That was all. I was expected, withno clue whatever to work upon, to ferret outand bring the thief to justice, and at the sametime recover Miss Bond’s watch. The only[3]thing that the thief had left behind him was apiece of paper on which was written thewords:
“Remember the poor.” I did not regardthis as being of any importance, and gave itlittle or no thought.
I was a young man at the time, unmarried,and, as it may be guessed, susceptible to thecharms of pretty girls. Miss Bond—Clara—wasa pretty girl, and I may as well confess, Ifell in love with her at first sight. I also madean impression upon her. This caused me allthe more eagerly to work up the case and tryto bring it to a successful conclusion. Whoknows, thought I, what may be at the end ofit? I made a good many visits to the Bondhouse, nominally to seek information, in realityto gaze upon the face of the charming MissBond. My search for the thief did not progressvery favorably. In fact, I had made noprogress whatever. It promised to remain anunsolved mystery. I could not find the thief.Now comes the strange part of the story—howthe thief found me. I had just boarded arailway train when a man followed me, andquietly slipped into the seat next to me. Hecarried a small bag which he hid under theseat. I also had a bag somewhat similar tohis own.
“Well, Jimmy,” he remarked, “how didyou succeed?”
“First rate,” I returned, in a whisper, so asnot to betray