next morning the papers were as full of detective theories as before; they had all our tragic facts in detail also, and a great many more which they had received from their telegraphic correspondents. column after column was occupied, a third of its way down, with glaring head-lines, which it made my heart sick to read. their general tone was like this:

the white elephant at large! he moves upon his fatal march! whole

villages deserted by their fright-stricken occupants! pale terror

goes before him, death and devastation follow after! after these,

the detectives! barns destroyed, factories gutted, harvests

devoured, public assemblages dispersed, accompanied by scenes of

carnage impossible to describe! theories of thirty-four of the most

distinguished detectives on the force! theory of chief blunt!

“there!” said inspector blunt, almost betrayed into excitement, “this is magnificent! this is the greatest windfall that any detective organization ever had. the fame of it will travel to the ends of the earth, and endure to the end of time, and my name with it.”

but there was no joy for me. i felt as if i had committed all those red crimes, and that the elephant was only my irresponsible agent. and how the list had grown! in one place he had “interfered with an election and killed five repeaters.” he had followed this act with the destruction of two pool fellows, named o'donohue and mcflannigan, who had “found a refuge in the home of the oppressed of all lands only the day before, and were in the act of exercising for the first time the noble right of american citizens at the polls, when stricken down by the relentless hand of the scourge of siam.” in another, he had “found a crazy sensation-preacher preparing his next season's heroic attacks on the dance, the theater, and other things which can't strike back, and had stepped on him.” and in still another place he had “killed a lightning-rod agent.” and so the list went on, growing redder and redder, and more and more heartbreaking. sixty persons had been killed, and two hundred and forty wounded. all the accounts bore just testimony to the activity and devotion of the detectives, and all closed with the remark that “three hundred thousand citizens and four detectives saw the dread creature, and two of the latter he destroyed.”

i dreaded to hear the telegraphic instrument begin to click again. by and by the messages began to pour in, but i was happily disappointed in their nature. it was soon apparent that all trace of the elephant was lost. the fog had enabled him to search out a good hiding-place unobserved. telegrams from the most absurdly distant points reported that a dim vast mass had been glimpsed there through the fog at such and such an hour, and was “undoubtedly the elephant.” this dim vast mass had been glimpsed in new haven, in new jersey, in pennsylvania, in interior new york, in brooklyn, and even in the city of new york itself! but in all cases the dim vast mass had vanished quickly and left no trace. every detective of the large force scattered over this huge extent of country sent his hourly report, and each and every one of them had a clue, and was shadowing something, and was hot upon the heels of it.

but the day passed without other result.

the next day the same.

the next just the same.

the newspaper reports began to grow monotonous with facts that amounted to nothing, clues which led to nothing, and theories which had nearly exhausted the elements which surprise and delight and dazzle.

by advice of the inspector i doubled the reward.

four more dull days followed. then came a bitter blow to the poor, hard-working detectives—the journalists declined to print their theories, and coldly said, “give us a rest.”

two weeks after the elephant's disappearance i raised the reward to seventy-five thousand dollars by the inspector's advice. it was a great sum, but i felt that i would rather sacrifice my whole private fortune than lose my credit with my government. now that the detectives were in adversity, the newspapers turned upon them, and began to fling the most stinging sarcasms at them. this gave the minstrels an idea, and they dressed themselves as detectives and hunted the elephant on the stage in the most extravagant way. the caricaturists made pictures of detectives scanning the country with spy-glasses, while the elephant, at their backs, stole apples out of their pockets. and they made all sorts of ridiculous pictures of the detective badge—you have seen that badge printed in gold on the back of detective novels no doubt, it is a wide-staring eye, with the legend, “we never sleep.” when detectives called for a drink, the would-be facetious barkeeper resurrected an obsolete form of expression and said, “will you have an eye-opener?” all the air was thick with sarcasms.

but there was one man who moved calm, untouched, unaffected, through it all. it was that heart of oak, the chief inspector. his brave eye never drooped, his serene confidence never wavered. he always said:

“let them rail on; he laughs best who laughs last.”

my admiration for the man grew into a species of worship. i was at his side always. his office had become an unpleasant place to me, and now became daily more and more so. yet if he could endure it i meant to do so also—at least, as long as i could. so i came regularly, and stayed—the only outsider who seemed to be capable of it. everybody wondered how i could; and often it seemed to me that i must desert, but at such times i looked into that calm and apparently unconscious face, and held my ground.

about three weeks after the elephant's disappearance i was about to say, one morning, that i should have to strike my colors and retire, when the great detective arrested the thought by proposing one more superb and masterly move.

this was to compromise with the robbers. the fertility of this man's invention exceeded anything i have ever seen, and i have had a wide intercourse with the world's finest minds. he said he was confident he could compromise for one hundred thousand dollars and recover the elephant. i said i believed i could scrape the amount together, but what would become of the poor detectives who had worked so faithfully? he said:

“in compromises they always get half.”

this removed my only objection. so the inspector wrote two notes, in this form:

dear madam,—your husband can make a large sum of money (and be

entirely protected from the law) by making an immediate, appointment

with me. chief blunt.

he sent one of these by his confidential messenger to the “reputed wife” of brick duffy, and the other to the reputed wife of red mcfadden.

within the hour these offensive answers came:

ye owld fool: brick mcduffys bin ded 2 yere.

bridget mahoney.

chief bat,—red mcfadden is hung and in heving 18 month. any ass

but a detective know that.

mary o'hooligan.

“i had long suspected these facts,” said the inspector; “this testimony proves the unerring accuracy of my instinct.”

the moment one resource failed him he was ready with another. he immediately wrote an advertisement for the morning papers, and i kept a copy of it:

a.—xwblv.242 n. tjnd—fz328wmlg. ozpo,—; 2m! ogw. mum

he said that if the thief was alive this would bring him to the usual rendezvous. he further explained that the usual rendezvous was a place where all business affairs between detectives and criminals were conducted. this meeting would take place at twelve the next night.

we could do nothing till then, and i lost no time in getting out of the office, and was grateful indeed for the privilege.

at eleven the next night i brought one hundred thousand dollars in bank-notes and put them into the chief's hands, and shortly afterward he took his leave, with the brave old undimmed confidence in his eye. an almost intolerable hour dragged to a close; then i heard his welcome tread, and rose gasping and tottered to meet him. how his fine eyes flamed with triumph! he said:

“we've compromised! the jokers will sing a different tune to-morrow! follow me!”

he took a lighted candle and strode down into the vast vaulted basement where sixty detectives always slept, and where a score were now playing cards to while the time. i followed close after him. he walked swiftly down to the dim remote end of the place, and just as i succumbed to the pangs of suffocation and was swooning away he stumbled and fell over the outlying members of a mighty object, and i heard him exclaim as he went down:

“our noble profession is vindicated. here is your elephant!”

i was carried to the office above and restored with carbolic acid. the whole detective force swarmed in, and such another season of triumphant rejoicing ensued as i had never witnessed before. the reporters were called, baskets of champagne were opened, toasts were drunk, the handshakings and congratulations were continuous and enthusiastic. naturally the chief was the hero of the hour, and his happiness was so complete and had been so patiently and worthily and bravely won that it made me happy to see it, though i stood there a homeless beggar, my priceless charge dead, and my position in my country's service lost to me through what would always seem my fatally careless execution of a great trust. many an eloquent eye testified its deep admiration for the chief, and many a detective's voice murmured, “look at him—just the king of the profession; only give him a clue, it's all he wants, and there ain't anything hid that he can't find.” the dividing of the fifty thousand dollars made great pleasure; when it was finished the chief made a little speech while he put his share in his pocket, in which he said, “enjoy it, boys, for you've earned it; and, more than that, you've earned for the detective profession undying fame.”

a telegram arrived, which read:

monroe, mich., 10 p.m.

first time i've struck a telegraph office in over three weeks. have

followed those footprints, horseback, through the woods, a thousand

miles to here, and they get stronger and bigger and fresher every day.

don't worry-inside of another week i'll have the elephant. this is dead

sure. darley, detective.

the chief ordered three cheers for “darley, one of the finest minds on the force,” and then commanded that he be telegraphed to come home and receive his share of the reward.

so ended that marvelous episode of the stolen elephant. the newspapers were pleasant with praises once more, the next day, with one contemptible exception. this sheet said, “great is the detective! he may be a little slow in finding a little thing like a mislaid elephant he may hunt him all day and sleep with his rotting carcass all night for three weeks, but he will find him at last if he can get the man who mislaid him to show him the place!”

poor hassan was lost to me forever. the cannonshots had wounded him fatally, he had crept to that unfriendly place in the fog, and there, surrounded by his enemies and in constant danger of detection, he had wasted away with hunger and suffering till death gave him peace.

the compromise cost me one hundred thousand dollars; my detective expenses were forty-two thousand dollars more; i never applied for a place again under my government; i am a ruined man and a wanderer in the earth, but my admiration for that man, whom i believe to be the greatest detective the world has ever produced, remains undimmed to this day, and will so remain unto the end.

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