never would have occurred to me or to any other layman, perhaps, but it had not deceived the detectives for a moment.  Thus, what I had supposed was the only thing that had no mystery about it was in fact the very thing I had gone furthest astray in.  The eleven theories all named the supposed robbers, but no two named the same robbers; the total number of suspected persons was thirty-seven.  The various newspaper accounts all closed with the most important opinion of all —­that of Chief Inspector Blunt.  A portion of this statement read as follows: 

The chief knows who the two principals are, namely, “Brick” Daffy and “Red” McFadden.  Ten days before the robbery was achieved he was already aware that it was to be attempted, and had quietly proceeded to shadow these two noted villains; but unfortunately on the night in question their track was lost, and before it could be found again the bird was flown—­that is, the elephant.

Daffy and McFadden are the boldest scoundrels in the profession; the chief has reasons for believing that they are the men who stole the stove out of the detective headquarters on a bitter night last winter—­in consequence of which the chief and every detective present were in the hands of the physicians before morning, some with frozen feet, others with frozen fingers, ears, and other members.

When I read the first half of that I was more astonished than ever at the wonderful sagacity of this strange man.  He not only saw everything in the present with a clear eye, but even the future could not be hidden from him.  I was soon at his office, and said I could not help wishing he had had those men arrested, and so prevented the trouble and loss; but his reply was simple and unanswerable: 

“It is not our province to prevent crime, but to punish it.  We cannot punish it until it is committed.”

I remarked that the secrecy with which we had begun had been marred by the newspapers; not only all our facts but all our plans and purposes had been revealed; even all the suspected persons had been named; these would doubtless disguise themselves now, or go into hiding.

“Let them.  They will find that when I am ready for them my hand will descend upon them, in their secret places, as unerringly as the hand of fate.  As to the newspapers, we must keep in with them.  Fame, reputation, constant public mention—­these are the detective’s bread and butter.  He must publish his facts, else he will be supposed to have none; he must publish his theory, for nothing is so strange or striking as a detective’s theory, or brings him so much wonderful respect; we must publish our plans, for these the journals insist upon having, and we could not deny them without offending.  We must constantly show the public what we are doing, or they will believe we are doing nothing.  It is much pleasanter to have a newspaper say, ’Inspector Blunt’s ingenious and extraordinary theory is as follows,’ than to have it say some harsh thing, or, worse still, some sarcastic one.”