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Updated: May 23, 2025
So Mock looked as gentle as a suckling dove while two professors from Columbia University, three of his landlords in his more reputable business enterprises, the superintendent of the Rising Sun Mission, four ex-police officers, a fireman, and an investigator for the Society for the Suppression of Sin swore upon Holy Writ and with all sincerity that Mock Hen was not only a person of the most excellent character and reputation but a Christian and a gentleman.
"At the foot of the stairs you will find a gentleman named Holden," said Winter. "Ask him to come up, please." Holden appeared, a sallow personage, long-nosed and shrewd-looking. The detective explained that Mr. Holden was an ex-police sergeant, retained for many years at headquarters on account of his fluency in the language of Tasso. Winter did not mention Tasso. This is figurative.
A true account of the attempts on Napoleon's life will never be written, because the only persons who were able and willing to throw light on the subject, ex-police agents and their kind, are authorities whose word is worth a very limited acceptance. It is pretty sure that there were more plots than the public ever knew of, and that in some cases the plotters were disposed of summarily.
The agent through whom the exposure had been made, by an ex-police chief, was an obscure Russian journalist, Vladimir Bourtsev, who at once rose to international prominence as the "Sherlock Holmes of the Russian Revolution."
"What is there difficult about that? That should be simple. Surely there are not a great many farms or farmyards that comply with all the conditions I enumerated. Surely that should be merely detail, just the work the police ought to be able to do. Ex-Police Commissioner McGuire thinks that too." He waved his hands with a gesture of finality and Brasher knew that he was dismissed.
His unblemished record was referred to in an occasional editorial. When an ex-police reporter came to him, asking him to father a macaronic volume bearing the title "Criminals of America," Blake not only added his name to the title page, but advanced three hundred dollars to assist towards its launching.
"Because it leads to the second part of my story. Someone Capella or his solicitors, I expect instructed Messrs. Matchem and Smith, private detectives, to keep a close eye on the lady. Their man is an ex-police constable, a former subordinate of mine who was fined for taking a drink when he ought not to. Of course, I knew him and he knew me, so I hadn't much trouble in getting it out of him."
Down the silent deserted road came three bullock-carts piled high with boxes and escorted by a ragged regiment of ex-sepoys, ex-police, mutineers, almost a battalion from the forces of the wild Border State neighbouring Gungapur. A small crowd of variously armed uniformless men preceded the escort and carts, while a large one followed them.
The friendly keeper, having gotten a peep at the ex-Police Prefect's letter of pardon, needed but the clincher argument of the gold in order to aid de Vaudrey's escape. A rope over the wall, and even a plank across the moat, were mysteriously provided. Already the East was showing the ghostly light of the first faint streaks of dawn.
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