INSPECTOR BRONSON told me the story with particular gusto, probably because of the fact that he himself had had nothing to do with it. If he never shared the glory of the capture, at least he had not the dishonor of being at fault in a case where the department was completely mystified, where the Pinkertons were compelled to confess failure, and where the solution came through the efforts of a simple bucolic village constable. But perhaps I had better tell the story as told to me in the cozy office of the inspector in Mulberry Street.

      "Let me see now — the year was, I think, 188—. Yes, I'm sure it was. In the Fall a series of burglaries were reported from various little outlying suburbs of this city, all of a nature so much alike that the department immediately came to the conclusion that the same gang was responsible for all the robberies. It was evident from the start that a gang was at work. You understand, of course, that certain indications clearly showed that, and therefore all that remained was to discover which of the gangs of our acquaintance was the one we were to look for.

      "Doubtless you know that every gang of that kind has its trade marks, so to speak; marks that to the detective mind indicated its work as clearly as print; but in this particular instance it was borne in upon us that we were up against a new combination. And a clever combination, it was easy to tell, at that. To find out if we had any fresh Western crooks among us was the next step; but there were no signs of recent importations, and an inspection of the new arrivals from abroad was equally fruitless.

      "Hennessey — a clever boy — and old Walter Huggins, one of the shrewdest sleuths in the service, were detailed specially to cover the case, and here is briefly the situation as it presented itself to them: Two fine old mansions up in Yonkers had been broken into and robbed, and the crooks had gotten away without leaving a track behind them. The two burglaries followed one another with only a day's interval, and then came news of a similar affair over in the Hampton district. The fellows who did the jobs — we were sure they were the same — were the cleanest workmen we ever followed. The most diligent searching did not reveal a clew, and the Central Office began to get its usual bombardment of abusive, sarcastic letters. Huggins and Hennessey worked like demons over the Hampton business, questioning everybody in sight, running down suspicious strangers and pedlers, until they seemed to have exhausted every possible clew to the detection of the criminals. Their reports, I need hardly tell you, were full of hope and scents of fresh developments, but such reports never fool anyone, and four days after the two had gone to work up the case we at the office knew they were as much in the dark as they were before they started.

      The inspector puffed his cigar thoughtfully for a few moments, shifted himself into a more comfortable position in his chair, and went on:

      "Huggins and Hennessey were still down at the Hampton place when the news came of still another burglary right in the same district. That made four — four, mind you, inside of eight days, and all from the same gang. The Central Office was almost turned upside down. Two more men were sent down, and I don't know how many gum shoe newspaper reporters were flitting all over the place. A day passed and nothing new was reported, then another day, and the newspaper detectives found something else to do, and then a week passed, but not a fresh development worth recording transpired. Our men, to give them their due, left no stone unturned, but at the end of the second week they were as blindly in the dark as ever. Rewards were offered, but even that brought no tangible result.

      "The old hands at the office surmised, and rightly, that they were only at the beginning of a series of robberies, and looked forward to the future operations of the gang quite as keenly as they observed their work of the past.

      "Expectations of that kind usually are not disappointed, nor were we then, but the next burglary was of a nature to startle us by the brilliancy with which the crooks did their work.

      "Maplewood was then the fashionable Summer quarters for nearly a dozen Fifth Avenue millionaires. You remember old Henry Van Tromp? Well, he lived there in a magnificent old colonial house, and it was his place that next received the attention of this new and mysterious gang of expert crooks. Huggins, who was still working on the affair, was sent to Maplewood, and the way the commodore, as Van Tromp was called, received him was a caution. The old man had been reading the papers, and the style in which he abused Huggins and the department was both vigorous and picturesque.

      "I forgot to tell you, by the way, that the Hampton people had called in the Pinkertons, and Van Tromp, who was firmly convinced that the New York detectives weren't worth their salt, also had the Pinkertons in to recover some valuable family jewels that the burglars had included in their haul at his house."

      The inspector had an irritating way of puffing his cigar whenever he came to an important point in his story. I now had to wait fully two minutes before he went on.

      "I never heard what the Pinkerton men did do — though I heard a lot about what they did not do — anyway, the days passed into weeks, and old Tromp was in a white sweat at the incapacity of police and Pinkerton men alike. He wrote letters to the papers and swore that if he had to spend a million on it he would unearth the criminals. He was a very obstinate old gentleman.

      "Well, what do you think he did? There was in New York at that time a private detective agency that had a national reputation, though mostly in non-criminal affairs. It was run by a fellow named Bright, and he certainly was a pretty slick chap. Old Van Tromp had had some dealings with Bright, and rated him highly, so when he had expressed his final disgust with the police it was not surprising to find that he had called Bright in to work on the case. Accordingly Bright himself was installed in the Van Tromp mansion, as a guest, and his men were out hunting clews with a remarkable display of energy.

      "It made poor old Huggins mad to see this fellow, Bright, step in, and, without actually intending to, he at once found cause to quarrel with the private 'tec.' Bright apparently wanted to be conciliatory, but Huggins' professional dignity was hurt, and he would have nothing to say to him.

      Again the inspector became devoted to his cigar, but this time he started in with an abrupt flicking of the ashes into the fireplace:

      "Now here is where the village constable comes in. Van Tromp had a pretty maid servant, whose special beau this particular constable happened to be, and much of the time that the local guardian of the peace was supposed to be spending in the suppression of crime he spent tn old Tromp's kitchen. Not a bad place, either, as Huggins found out for himself, and he, too, spent an occasional hour there.

      "One day there was a great deal of excitement about the place. Bright gave it to be understood that he was in possession of a highly important clew, and on the strength of it he wired to one of his men in New York to come and meet him at Maplewood. When passing poor old Huggins that day he nodded very condescendingly to him, a proceeding that set the old detective's nerves on edge. He did not believe for a moment that Bright had a really important clew, but still he was nervous and a little afraid of being beaten at his own game. He relented of his quarrel with the New Yorker, and even went so far as to speak with him, in the hope that he would pick up something that would enable him to be in at the death at least. But all that Bright would say was: 'I hope, Mr. Huggins, that we can count upon you when we come to make an important arrest I think we are very near a solution of this mystery.' Huggins could only reply gruffly: 'I shall be where I'm wanted.' There their Intercourse for that day terminated.

      "That afternoon Bright a lieutenant arrived and was met at the station by Bright, who had driven over in the commodore's own trap for that purpose. The two drove up to the house like distinguished guests, and dined with old Tromp himself. They were, it afterwards transpired, very reticent during dinner about whatever clews they possessed, but after the meal they strolled in the garden, apparently to discuss their plans together.

      "How it happened that the village constable, aforesaid, and Huggins were in the kitchen, looking out into the garden, just at the moment that the two private detectives entered it. They were watching the pretty maid servant, who was plucking a few flowers for her mistress' table. When Huggins saw the two he gave a grunt, of disgust and turned away, saying to himself: 'I'd give a dollar in good money to know what those fellows are saying.'

      "What happened afterward was related by the constable to Huggins. I don't undertake to give you the words of the constable, because Huggins did not give them to me, but here is their substance: Eliza — that's the maid servant — had just stepped behind a clump of bushes as the private detectives came along, and, without intending to, overheard a portion of their conversation. She could make nothing out of the scraps she had heard, but repeated them as closely to the original as possible to her sweetheart. What he made out of it was that everything was laid out at the Minto mansion, and the boys were to come along that night and find everything ready. There wasn't much in this, but the constable repeated it to Huggins, who was astute enough to determine to keep a vigilant watch on the Minto place, another millionaire's residence, that night. Without seeming in the least to have acquired any fresh information, he wired for extra help to headquarters, and had half a dozen policemen arrive at a spot some distance away, where he could communicate with them.

      "To make a long story short Huggins, by consent of Mr. Minto, smuggled half a dozen plain clothes men into the Minto house that night, and disposed of them quietly in various positions. Himself, he placed at a certain window mentioned in the conversation overheard by Eliza.

      "At midnight, or perhaps a little later, a form protruded itself through the window beside which Huggins stood guard; it was followed by another; but Huggins kept mum until a third figure was in the room, and no prospect of any more coining. Then Huggins — the old war horse loved a melodramatic arrest — leveled his gun at one of them and shouted: 'The game's up — throw up your hands.'

      "A most unholy scrimmage followed, in which the village policeman was laid out with an open head. No one thought of turning on the lights, but finally, after much confusion, the three were safely in hand, and Huggins paused to draw a good long breath before taking a look at them.

      "One was the fellow who had come down that afternoon to see Detective Bright. The moment Huggins recognized him he left the three prisoners in charge of the other men and made a dash for the Van Tromp mansion. There, as he anticipated, he found Bright calmly sleeping, but he had him up in a minute, and pretty soon he made a quartet of it with the others.

      "I dare say you are familiar with the result of that trial. The most complete burgling gang of the century was captured in Bright and his associates. They actually did run a genuine detective agency, but the information they became possessed of through their business dealings with various people they used for their own nefarious purposes, and a professional visit from the firm of detectives was always followed, when worth while, by a visit from the gang. Between that and occasional blackmailing they kept themselves pretty busy.

      "I suppose all stories end completely," said the inspector, "and if you want the finish of the one I have told you you will find it at a pleasant little hotel down at Maplewood, which old Van Tromp insisted on setting up for the village constable, to whom he gave all the credit, and his wife, the former maid servant.

      "By the way, if you write that story," called out the inspector as I was about to take my departure, "change the names and places. You understand."

      "All right, Inspector. Many thanks. I understand."