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.
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