7 to 12: A Detective Story

“Another entrance through a second-story window. A detective wanted right off. Better hurry up there,—East Seventy-third Street.”

Clarke turned to go; but the next moment I heard the Superintendent call him back.

“It is Mr. Winchester’s, you know; the banker.”

Clarke nodded and started again; but a suppressed exclamation from the Superintendent made him stop for the second time.

“I’ve changed my mind,” said the latter, folding up the slip of paper he held in his hand. “You can see what Halley has for you to do; I’ll attend to this.” And giving me a look that was a summons, he whispered in my ear: “This notification was written by Mr. Winchester himself, and at the bottom I see hurriedly added, ‘Keep it quiet; send your discreetest man.’ That means something more than a common burglary.”

I nodded, and the affair was put in my hands. As I was going out of the door, a fellow detective came hurriedly in.

“The fellows who have been climbing into second-story windows, and helping themselves while the family is at dinner.”

I looked at the Superintendent. He gave a curious lift of his brows, which I answered with a short smile. In another moment I was in the street.

My first ring at the bell of No.—East Seventy-third Street brought response in the shape of Mr. Winchester himself. Seeing me, his countenance fell, but in another instant brightened as I observed:

“You sent for a detective, sir;” and quietly showed him my badge.