Before any of us could reach him, Garrick concluded, “This is the man who framed up the case against Forbes, who stole Warrington’s car to use to get rid of the body of the informer, Rena Taylor, because she by her success interfered with his gambling graft, who wrote the letter to Miss Winslow to injure Warrington because he, too, was interfering with his graft collection from the gambling house by threatening to close it up.  He committed the arson to cover up his identity by getting back the letter; he planned and nearly executed the kidnapping of Miss Winslow in order to hold up Warrington, and then hid in the country where we ferreted him out, not far from the very scene of a murderous attack on Warrington for his brave stand in suppressing gambling—­from which this man was weekly shaking down a huge profit as the price of police protection of the vice.”

Garrick was kneeling by the prostrate form now, not so much the accuser as the scientist, studying a new phase of crime.

The threatened paralysis had struck Inspector Herman sooner than even Garrick had expected.

When we had made Herman as comfortable as we could, Garrick added to Dillon, who stood over us, speechless, “You had under you one of the strong links in the secret system of police protection of vice and crime, and you never knew it—­the greatest grafter and scientific gunman that I ever knew.  It has been a long, hard fight.  But I have the goods on him at last.”

The exposure was startling in the extreme.  Herman had gained for himself the reputation of being one of the shrewdest and most efficient men in the department.  But he had felt the lure of graft.  With the aid of the gamblers and unscrupulous politicians he had built up a huge, secret machine for collection of the profits from the sale of police protection against the enforcement of the law he was sworn to uphold.

He had begun to mix with doubtful characters.  But he was a genius and had become, by degrees, the worst of the gangmen and gunmen who ever operated in the metropolis.  Detailed to catch the gamblers and gangsters, with official power to do almost as he pleased, he had enjoyed a fine holiday and employed his leisure both for new crimes and in covering up so successfully his tracks in the old ones, even with Garrick on his trail, that he had been able to completely hoodwink his superior, Dillon, by his long, detailed reports which sounded very convincing but which really meant nothing.

As the strange truth of the case was established by Garrick, Dillon was the most amazed of us all.  He had trusted Herman, and the revulsion of feeling was overwhelming.

“And to think,” he exclaimed, in disgust, “that I actually placed his own case in his own hands, with carte blanche instructions to go ahead.  No wonder he never produced a clew that amounted to anything.  Well, I’ll be—­”

Words failed him, as he looked down and glared savagely at the man in silence.