MORE ABOUT INVESTIGATION.
Outside fiction, the real detective does not disguise himself in any
elaborate or melodramatic fashion. He will not wear a false moustache or
a wig, for instance. But the beginner is taught how a difference in
dressing the hair, the combing out or waxing of a moustache, the
substitution of a muffler for a collar, a cap for a bowler will alter
his appearance. They keep a "make-up" room at headquarters, its most
conspicuous feature being a photograph of a group of dirty-looking
ruffians--detectives in disguise. But it is a disguise the more
impenetrable because there is nothing that can go wrong with it. Yet not
half a dozen times in a year is the make-up room used.
The kind of case in which a disguise is useful may be illustrated. Some
thieves had broken into St. George's Cathedral, at Southwark, and then
rifled the Bishop's Palace. The booty they secured was worth some three
thousand pounds, and they left not the faintest trace behind. The
officer charged with the investigation resolved on a long shot. He
dressed himself--I quote a newspaper report--"in a long overcoat and
slouched hat, sported a heavy chain, smoked a big cigar, and was well
supplied with gold." In this attire he made himself conspicuous about
Vauxhall. Among the "crooks" of that neighbourhood, it soon became known
that a Jew receiver--one Cohen, of Brick Lane, Whitechapel--was about,
and in a very short while the "receiver" knew all that he needed to
arrest the thieves and recover the stolen property.
"Shadowing," too, is a matter of experience. Let anyone who doubts its
difficulties try the experiment of keeping sight of a person in a
frequented thoroughfare. When a suspect knows or guesses he is being
followed--as he inevitably does, if it is continued for a day or two--it
becomes ten times more difficult. Unless incessant watchfulness is
maintained, a shadowed person will be lost sight of in five minutes.
Shadowing is, when possible, always done by detectives in pairs,
sometimes in threes. Detective No. 1 shadows the suspect, detective No.
2 shadows his colleague. Then if the suspect stops or turns suddenly No.
1 walks innocently on and No. 2 takes up the chase. It is a wearisome
task when a person has to be watched incessantly, for it may not be
possible to assign a spot with any certainty for reliefs to continue the
trail.
When the young detective begins his career he will carry a virgin
drab-coloured diary in his breast pocket, wherein he will be expected to
record every moment spent on duty, every penny he spends. If any
illusion remains in his mind that he will be turned loose on the streets
to catch thieves or murderers, it is quickly destroyed. Hard labour is
his portion. Small enquiries at pawnbrokers', searching directories to
verify addresses, running errands for his superiors, and doing all the
small odd jobs are his immediate concern.
Only now and again is he called upon to play a minor part in an arrest.
But all the while he will be learning and improving his acquaintance
with the thieves in his district. All his painfully acquired knowledge
goes for little unless he can cultivate a certain friendship with the
rogues in the vicinity of his sphere of duty.
The "informant" plays a big part in the workings of Scotland Yard. If
the old phrase, "Honour among thieves," had any truth in it, London
would be a poor place for honest men to live in. But gossip of the
underworld is easily attainable to ears that wish to catch it.
One of the problems which beset the architect of New Scotland Yard was
this same problem of the informant. An inconspicuous entrance had to be
arranged by which access could be unobtrusively gained by a person too
shy to be seen walking publicly up the main entrance of the headquarters
of police.
A great detective once told the writer how, in his early days, he set to
work to learn the world, and gained valuable acquaintance with the
deliberation that a young student might apply to the pursuit of an exact
science. He took a room in Jermyn Street, and began his studies in every
moment he could spare off duty. "I haunted night clubs; I went to
gambling houses; I was a frequenter of any resort where one was likely
to meet rogues or tricksters. I stored my memory with faces, and made
myself friendly with all sorts of people--waiters, barmen, and
hall-porters. So it was that I got hints that I should never have got by
any other method, and scores of times, years afterwards, I received
information from the channels I had formed when I began. To show the
value of some of these acquaintances I may tell you that when some idea
of my identity leaked out at one of these clubs an American crook--he
was drunk--declared openly that he would shoot me at sight. The waiter
contrived to draw the cartridges from his revolver, and to give me a
hint as I entered. And sure enough my man stood up, took aim, and pulled
the trigger of the empty weapon. I hit him on the jaw, and let it rest
at that. But if I hadn't treated that waiter right, I might have been a
dead man now."
The personal factor is an important one in dealing with informants.
There is not very often ill-feeling between criminals and detectives. A
slight straining of red-tape will sometimes have wide-reaching results.
A detective, conveying a prisoner from Liverpool to London, offered the
latter a cigar. "You're a good sort," exclaimed the man impulsively.
"Tell you what; I'm in for it, I know. But I can do you a bit of good.
It was X. and Z. who did that Hatton Garden business." And so was
provided a clue to an apparently insoluble mystery.
At the end of three months, the probationer, if he has qualified, finds
himself a fully-fledged "detective-patrol." Thereafter he has to pass an
examination whenever he is promoted, and may pass upwards through the
grades of third, second, and first class detective-sergeants to second,
first, and divisional inspector, and even eventually to chief
detective-inspector.
The everyday duties of the C.I.D. are legion. There are "Informations"
passing between headquarters and the different stations daily, almost
hourly. Stolen property has to be traced, pawnbrokers visited, convicts
on licence watched, reports made, inquiries conducted by request of
provincial police forces. It means hard, painstaking work from morning
to night.
As I have said, so far as is consistent with his duty, a man keeps on
good terms with those criminals he knows. It is a point of policy. They
know that the average detective does not wish them harm. If he has to
arrest them they know he will be scrupulously fair when it comes to
giving evidence. Often a detective will help a man out of his own pocket
when he knows that a case is really a necessitous one. He has no animus
against any person he arrests. His duty is merely to place in safe
custody the person he believes to be responsible for a breach of the
law. Conviction or acquittal matters nothing to him after that. He has
done his duty.
A wide knowledge of human nature is necessary to his calling, and he
never forgets that the power of a police officer has its limitations. A
man who brings discredit or ridicule on the department has a short-lived
official life.
There is another part of the Criminal Investigation Department which has
duties entirely distinct from that of the main body of detectives. That
is the Special Branch, under Superintendent Quinn, M.V.O.--a section
which, with the war, has suddenly become of great importance, for it has
now largely to do with the spy peril. Of its methods and organisation
little can be said, for obvious reasons.
In ordinary times it concerns itself solely with the protection of high
personages, from the King and Queen and Cabinet Ministers to
distinguished foreign visitors. The Special Branch in the days of
suffragette outrages was the chief foe of the vote-seekers. It deals,
too, with all political offences which need investigation.
There is a special squad of officers who deal with the white slave
traffic. These are assisted by a lady appointed by the Home Office. She
makes enquiries from women and children where victims might be reluctant
to confide in a man, and has other similar duties.
The department is practically self-contained, working side by side with
the uniform branch under its own officers. The point of contact is at
superintendents of divisions, who exercise a supervising control.