I was walking in Central Park with Avery Knight, the great New York
burglar, highwayman, and murderer.
“But, my dear Knight,” said I, “it sounds incredible. You have
undoubtedly performed some of the most wonderful feats in your
profession known to modern crime. You have committed some marvellous
deeds under the very noses of the police—you have boldly entered the
homes of millionaires and held them up with an empty gun while you made
free with their silver and jewels; you have sandbagged citizens in the
glare of Broadway’s electric lights; you have killed and robbed with
superb openness and absolute impunity—but when you boast that within
forty-eight hours after committing a murder you can run down and
actually bring me face to face with the detective assigned to apprehend
you, I must beg leave to express my doubts—remember, you are in New
York.”
Avery Knight smiled indulgently.
“You pique my professional pride, doctor,” he said in a nettled tone.
“I will convince you.”
About twelve yards in advance of us a prosperous-looking citizen was
rounding a clump of bushes where the walk curved. Knight suddenly drew
a revolver and shot the man in the back. His victim fell and lay
without moving.
The great murderer went up to him leisurely and took from his clothes
his money, watch, and a valuable ring and cravat pin. He then rejoined
me smiling calmly, and we continued our walk.
Ten steps and we met a policeman running toward the spot where the shot
had been fired. Avery Knight stopped him.
“I have just killed a man,” he announced, seriously, “and robbed him of
his possessions.”
“G’wan,” said the policeman, angrily, “or I’ll run yez in! Want yer
name in the papers, don’t yez? I never knew the cranks to come around
so quick after a shootin’ before. Out of th’ park, now, for yours, or
I’ll fan yez.”
“What you have done,” I said, argumentatively, as Knight and I walked
on, “was easy. But when you come to the task of hunting down the
detective that they send upon your trail you will find that you have
undertaken a difficult feat.”
“Perhaps so,” said Knight, lightly. “I will admit that my success
depends in a degree upon the sort of man they start after me. If it
should be an ordinary plain-clothes man I might fail to gain a sight of
him. If they honor me by giving the case to some one of their
celebrated sleuths I do not fear to match my cunning and powers of
induction against his.”
On the next afternoon Knight entered my office with a satisfied look on
his keen countenance.
“How goes the mysterious murder?” I asked.
“As usual,” said Knight, smilingly. “I have put in the morning at the
police station and at the inquest. It seems that a card case of mine
containing cards with my name and address was found near the body. They
have three witnesses who saw the shooting and gave a description of me.
The case has been placed in the hands of Shamrock Jolnes, the famous
detective. He left Headquarters at 11:30 on the assignment. I waited at
my address until two, thinking he might call there.”