3-D
The World's Greatest Detective Cases
How Inspector Byrnes of the New
York City Police Bluffed a Des
perate Criminal Into a Con
fession of Murder.
The "Third Degree," Introduced to
U. S. Detectives by Thos. Byrnes,
Has Solved Hundreds of
Baffling Mysteries.
THE BEE: OMAHA, SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 1921.
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V
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-I
y NAZARIENE DAAN KANNI
BELLE. Copyright, 1921. by tho World-Wide
. N Service, Inc.)
. -.; York, or, indeed, the
United States as a whole, has rare
ly produced a detective who be
came so world famous as Inspec
tor Thomas Byrnes. He began
Itis career in 1863 in the New
York police force, and eventually
became its head and one of the
best respected and most feared po
lice chiefs in America. He re
ceived many offers of honors
from other countries, but de
clined them on the ground that he
considered it a sufficient honor to
be a citizen of the United States.
He wrote a book, "Professional
Criminals of America," which has
become a classic in literature deal
ing with criminals. It was due to
Inspector Byrnes that the well
known and dreaded "Tliird De-
srree" came into use in America.
The following story illustrates In
spector Byrnes methods of using
the "Third Degree," and so play
ing on the nerves of a prisoner till
lie confesses. The chief of the
New York police retired in 1886
after 23 years' service.
(Mrs. Louis Hanier suddenly sat
in bed and listened intently in
the darkness. In the room below
her keen, strained ears caught the
sound of cautious movements andt
',ow, hoarse whispers. With a shak
' ing hand she awakened her hus
band and in a tow voice told him
what she had heard.
She had hardly finished speaking
when the crash of a falling glass
from the bar of the wine shop Louis
Hanier kept roused his half-awake
senses to their fullest pitch of
watchfulness. The Frenchman was
a brave man, and without hesitation
he sprang out of bed with a cautious
warning to his wife to stay where
she was.
"I'll creep down and get the po
lice.." he said.
)v By the light of a gas jet, which
was usually left burning all night,
iU trina clin l-rnir cntv flip lipnd
nit ..n't ...vv. ...... . ..
and shoulders of a man ascending
f the stairs.
"Who's that?" he cried.
Almost before he had finished
speaking the man below raised a re-
volver and fired. The bullet went
through the unfortunate man's heart,
and his terrified wife rushed out of
bed. ouly to find her husband breath-
ing his last. With a sobbing cry of
despair she flung open herbedroom
f window and nierced the stillness of
the night with her shrieks of "Mur
derl Tolice! Murder!"
Rclnw fniir men were movine
swiftly. The sound of the pistol shot
and the shrieks of the bereaved and
frightened woman above told three
of them only too plainly what had
happened. The fourth had murder
on his soul, but all knew that they
would have to sink or swim together,
for the law would be merciless if it
caught them. One quick glance up
the deserted street, and the four were
soon swallowed up in the darkness
of the fatal December night.
It was just after 1 o'clock in the
morning that Inspector Byrnes re
ceived the following message:
,, "Louis llainer, aged 52, owner of
cafe and wine shop at No. 144 West
Twenty-sixth street, has been shot
and killed; murderer escaped."
Byrnes Arrives.
The little cafe and its owner were
well known to the police. Unlike so
many New York drinking places, it
had a good reputation, and the 'mur
dered proprietor was known as a
peaceable, law-respecting man, with
a wife and three children.
When the inspector arrived on the
- scene of the murder lie found one of
jjjs .subordinates in charge. The
body of the dead man had been re
moved into the bedroom, where
Byrnes found the sobbing widow and
her three scared, fatherless children.
Ilis first step was to prevent a blun
dering official from arresting Mrs.
Hanier because her nightdress was
felaincd with blood.
"Look there," he said sarcastically,
pointing to the youngest child's
nightdress, which also was stained
with the blood of the dead man. "I
suppose she helped to murder her
father."
There was, however, practically
no clue whatever to go upon. Al
though Mrs. Hainier was able to say
that she had heard voices, she had
lot seen a single one of the burglars.
' "on the bar, however, there were
rour tumblers, three of which smelt
of whisky, and the fourth of absinthe.
It seemed probable, therefore, that
four men had been concerned in
the attempted burglary and the mur
der. Nothing had been taken,
though undoubtedly the burglars had
forced their way in with the iuteu
tion of robbing the safe of its Christ
mas week takings, for the murder
.lad been carried out on the fourth
rlay after Christmas.
Rarely had a detective a more ap
?irently hopeless task to tackle, but
Inspector Byrnes had been up
against more than one hopeless task
in his life and won through. The
first clue which came into his hands
was from the bullet found in the
murdered man'.s chest. This bullet
came from what is known as a 37
catibre revolver, and Inspectot
Byrnes sent a police notice round ta
all pawnbrokers, warning them to
take particular notice of any one
pawning such a revolver.
Suspicious Four.
Byrnes argued that the .murder
having been carried out by what
were professional crooks, they
would not throw the revolver away,
but would obtain what they could
for it when they knew the police
were on the lookout for the owner
of such a revolver. And Inspector
Byrnes let it be widely known that
he was after such a man in order to
scare the murderer" into getting rid
of the incriminating evidence against
him. He knew the minds of crim
inals well enough to know that if
once he could get them scared he
had got them beaten.
Good detective work depends upon
good organization, and the chief of
the New York police took other
steps as well to trace down the
wanted men. Though chance, he
knew, would probably put a clue in
his way, organization would go a
long way to help that chance to come
along. It was probable, he reasoned,
that the four men would meet to
gether in one of the many low drink
ing saloons in the French quarter,
where the murder took place, and in
one of the most likely he placed one
of his assistants, a particularly smart
girl who had helped him before, as
a waitress.
This was where chance helped the
inspector. She had only'been in the
place a week when she reported
that a party of four came in regu
larly. "I have Only found out the name
of one, a young fellow named Bail
Add," she said. "He's a tall, rather
handsome and intelligent-looking
man, who seems to be a cut above
his companions. They are undoubt
edly' criminals."
"What makes you think they had
anything to do with the muider?"
asked Byrnes.
"Why." replied the girl, "Yester
day I was pinning up your placard
offering $500 reward for the dis
covery of the murderers, when I
found they were all looking at it.
I pretended to take no notice, but I
heard Banfield say, 'There's a chance
for me to pick up a bit tomorrow.'
One of the men told him to shut up,
and they allgot up and went out
shortly afterwards."
"What was the man like who told
Banfield to shut up?"
The girl produced an immediate
description.
"He's a repulsive, bull-necked
man, walks with a swagger, and ap
pears to be the leader. It was he who
gave the signal to go. He's got the
face of a brute."
"Try and get hold oi his name the
next time they drop in," said the
detective "What do they usually
Tf
HE greatest contrast betv:en
his wife and the pretty pal.
immv Turner thought, lay m
the-shape, size, and complexion of
their hands.
Mrs. Turner's hands, playing a
supper sonata on the gas burners of
the kitchen stove, were coarse,
rough, red. Her fingers were short,
stubby, calloused, and unlovely;
though there was no question as to
their deftness and capability. Her
nails were well, just nails.
The pretty pal's hands were long
and slim, white and dimpled, and
the slender fingers were tipped with
shining beauty.
One pair of hands was always
skimming over typewriter keys,
turninsr srracefully the cages of fash
ion magazines, patting a wad 8f
sunny hair, or playing with some
thing so it seemed to Jimmy
Turner.
The other pair had know little
play, opened- few magazines of any
kind, wandered over no typewriters,
enthralled nobody by its beauty it
had been employed mostly for
utility.
Jimmy worked in the loop, and his
was a responsible position. Among
his other duties he had that of writ
ing the signature of S. Lee Barker
on numerous, if unimportant, let
ters. It was p.u important considera
tion, to Jimmy, that Mr. Barker had
not asked any one else to wrfae that
famous name. Nobody could put
the flourishes to it that Jimmy could.
It didn't procure him any more
money, this task, but it made him
feel more content with himself.
Besides it was a recognition of
his usefulness. He had worked for
the firm for 20 years, and he felt it
time his value was acknowledged.
He sat at a desk a little removed
from the others in the room, and
nearer to the stenographer than was
good for him. He couldn't help
watching her.
She was a pretty girl, aud Jim
my's eyes felt rested when he looked
at her. Sometimes he consciously
avoided looking, but the noises she
made all day long, with her machine,
her vanity case, her candy box, her
pencils, her papers and carDons. or
her dainty mouth, forced him to turn
his head.
PRETTY PAL - - - - - - By EDWARD doherty
have to drink?" he added casually.
"They always have the same," re
plied the girl. "The bull-necked
man has absinthe, and the other
three whisky."
The detective started. In the
glasses on the counter of, the wine
shop of the murdered man three had
had whisky and one absinthe? The
coincidence was too strong to be
overlooked. He felt sure that he was
after the right men if he could only
get sufficient evidence against them.
Unknown to his able girl assist
ant, another of the Inspector's as
sistants was stationed that day out
side the saloon, and relieved at in
tervals by other detectives. Dis
guised as Italians, with a barrel of
apples for sale, it would have taken
a skilled crook to recognize in them
members of the New York police
force. These men were put on to
watch, and make themselves perfect
ly familiar with the faces of the sus
pected men in order to be ready
Jimmy hadn't thought much of
Gladys when she first came to work,
or, for that matter, much about her.
Mentally he had criticized her hat
with its great dangling bunch of
black and red cherries, her silken
h.ose, her short skirts, her odd hand
bag, and even the w-ay tier hair was
arranged upon her forehead.
"Why will they wear those stilts
instead of heels?" he asked himself.
ana now do tliev ever manage to
get around on them?"
Y'es, Jimmy was even a little irri
tated with the newcomer, until she
laughed aloud one afternoon. It
was a beautiful thing, that laugh, as
sweet to his cars as an April rain
bow to his eyes. And thereafter
she was" his pretty pal, and nothing
that she did was wrong.
It got so he used to think of her
the first thing in the morning, while
Mabel was out at the ags range, in
her faded blue cotton kimono, her
hair untidy, her eyes still full of
sleep.
And the more he thought of
Gladys the more and paradoxically
the less he thought of Mabel. He
couldn't help the contrast. He
couldn't help wondering why Mabel
seldom smiled and never laughed
any more, why she was so plain, so
unromantic.
He never thought of Mabel these
days after he had left the house.
His day was filled with Gladys. He
would sit back in his chair, when
she had left the room, and compare
her to springtime and flowers and
rippling streams, the splashes made
by leaping fish, the chiming of bells
and the music of flutes and fine old
violins.
Gladys was full of joy. She
laughed at everything. Jimmy used
to think up things to make her laugh
at; and it was hard, work, too, and
not at all necessary.
"She laughed at his interest in a
new dress, a saucy hat "outre," she
called it the shape of a new hand
bag, anything or everything. She
didn't have to have anything in par
ticular to make her laugh.
Jimmy got so full of her he could
hardly wait until he got to the office
to say, "Hello, there, my pretty pal."
But he said that only to himself. To
iler he said, "Good morning. Miss
II 0
(J f r-MuTe whimpered
'x ' '''j'' -' ' 1
when necessary to shadow them or
carry out their arrest.
The inspector's reasoning of the
ways of crooks held good. He had
argued that the murderer would, if
he were a professional crook, at
tempt to sell. -or pawn, the fatal
weapon on the principle that any
criminal hates to throw anything
away on which he thinks he can
raise money. A few days after the
report of the sham waitress the de
tective received a message that a
30-caliber revolver had been pawned
the previous day. The pawnbroker's
description of his customer tallied
closely with that of one of the men
given by his girl assistant in the
saloon.
The Net.
Slowly the net was beginning to ; Avitli the four men being constantly
be fashioned which was to catch the I watched, but the police got no fur
f,ir in iic nh nUiriiUpri a ther. And every week one news-
a pedler, one of Inspector Byrnes' as
sistants traced every man to his
lodging place, and soon the famous
Hagen, lovely weather," then waited
for the laugh. ,
At evening when she wsre putting
on her hat, and talking to-4he men
who were always clustering around
her, he would say, "Good night, my
pretty pal, I won't sec you till tomor
row," and then, aloud, "Good night,
Miss Hagen."
A dozen times a day he would
say it to himself "pretty pal, my
pretty pal." Sometimes he said it
with a little shame, sometimes as
if the words were magic, and again
with a sneaking thrill of adventure.
But never could he make himself
say it aloud.
Once he called himself to himself
an old poll parrot, and he blushed
deliciously. -
Jimmy did. not love Gladys Hagen.
and he knew it. He loved the beauty
of her, the grace of her. the vibrant
sweet laugh of her. That was all.
He told himself again and again
there was no wrong in this but
even so he felt a tiny bit guilty be
cause of this secret love; and he
was quite bitter over his narrow
life, his bald head, his shabby suit,
his bowed legs, and his tired and
tattered wife.
He hated to go home. It was al
ways the same. Goodby to Gladys,
her departure 'with the bunch of
young clerks, the purchase of the
evening newspaper; the long ride" n
the "L," standing up and swaying,
trying to read and keep his feet from
under other feet, clinging with one
arm to the strap until it was weary,
then substituting the other arm; his
wife oyer the gas stove, arms bared
to the elbow, coarse hands, red
gers, a nui unnp suiuc un .vi "wcaiiej up saying she had a tooth-
damp tace; tne evening meat, eaten
in silence; the reading of the head
lines, a look at the sporting page and
the comics; lights out; bed.
Jimmy and Mabel had been mar
ried 20 years, and Jimmy had be
gun to wonder if all marriages turned
out like his, so flat and stale, so
cheerless, so common; the same rou
tine, night after night. He decided
he could not stand it any longer. He
was going to break the routine. He
was going to have at least one night
he would never forget.
On. this particular day Jimmy
hustled out at noon and bought two
j detective was in possession of all de
tails about the suspected men.
Banfield, he learned, had been a
draughtsman in an architect's oflite,
but had become mixed up with bad
companions and had lost his job. The
other three were crooks, two of
whom had already passed through
the hands of the police, while the
third was a man named McGioin, the
one whose description tallied with
that given by the pawnbroker and
the sham waitress. He was a well
known burglar, who had more than
once threatened that he would com
mit murder before he would allow
himself to be caught.
But here the luck of Inspector
Pvrnes seemed to desert him. Al
though he was convinced he now
k..t.-vv the murderer, it was a very
cVu-ri-nt matter to prove it in a court
of l-vv W eek aftpr wepk slinnerl hv
paper or another citricised Inspector
Byrnes and printed articles on the
inefficiency of the New Yrork detec
tive force.
tickets for the best show in town.
Then, with guilt written all over his
face, he stepped into a store and
bought a two-pound box of candy.
He hadn't bought candy for 10, 12
years more than that, maybe. Any
way, he figured he had a right to
buy candy for a friend.
He would go to Miss Hagen's
desk and give her the candy .ind ask
her to go to the -theater. He would
explain that Mabel never ate sweets,
and that she didn't care for the
theater. No, perhaps he had better
say Mabel had gone out of town.
Perhaps, too, it wbuld be best to
write Gladys a little note. '
It was a perturbed little bow
legged, bald-headed man who sat in
Jimmy Turner's desk and waited for
Gladys to appear. He waited a
long time. He was anxious, and
worried and, though he wouldn't
admit it, a' little relieved. He
wouldn't have to ask her until she
came. He wanted to so badly and
yet he didn't quite dare.
When 3 o'clock came and Gladys
was still absent he strolled to an
other desk a little self-conspicuous-ly,
but braving it out and asked in
as flippant a manner as he could:
"Where's the handsome steno?
Haven't seen her all afternoon.''
The young cub snickered, and
Jimmy blushed and began to
stammer. '
"You, toe?" said the clerk. "Poor
old Jimmy I You, a married man!
Fie for shame!"
Jimmy was covered with con
fusion, but he stuck manfullv to his
question until he learned what he
fin-,had sought l0 leari) Gladys had
ache.
The candy was in Jim's overcoat
pocket when he reached home, and
the tickets to the show that was to
have been such a treat to his
pretty pal were in the pocket of his
vest. He tossed the coat over a chair
pin the hall, took his seat in the
kitchen, watched his wife cooking
supper, and said not a word. The
wonderful night he had planned
O, what was the use?
"Supper's ready," said Mrs.
Turner.
Jimmy came out of his shattered
romance suddenly, conscious there
Byrnes, however, knew that sooner
or later he would get the opportunity
for which he was waiting, though
eventually, as is generally the case
with successful men, he had to go a
long way towards making that op
portunity. One day he made up his
mind to arrest the four men and try
lo bluff them into confessing or to
giving him a valuable clue to the
actual murderer.
With three other detectives he ar
rested the four men while tlu'y were
having a game of pool one niorninp.
None of the men was charged with
the murder of the old cafe keeper,
and. in fact, not the slightest ref
erence was made at the time of their
arrests to the murder. When Mc
Gioin was arrested the famous de
tective ordered one of his assistants
to search him in front of the others.
From him was taken a watch, ami
this Inspector Byrnes examined with
ostentatious care, comparing it with
a paper he had taken out of his
pocket.
"That's the watch." he said finally.
"Take him along to the station md
charge him with the theft of it."
M'Gloin went quietly for the
simple reason that he had obtained
had been something strange in the
timber of his wife's voice. Not in
what she said she had said it
nearly every evening for 20 years
but in the way she said it.
He passed that over. He was hiis
taken. But Avhen Mabel suddenly
rested her head on her arms and
started weeping noisily Jimmy
knew he had not been mistaken at
all.
"What's wrong?'' he asked.
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at
all."
When a weeping wife tells her
husband that "it's nothing," the wie
husband knows he has somehow
committed a great blunder. Jimmy
was wise. He knew he had blun
dered. But how? He was sure Mabel
knew nothing of Gladys. So he asked
her again, this time more gently.
"Toothache," she said.
"Y'ou don't act like you had tooth
ache," said Jimmy. "Tell me, now,
there's a good girl, wliat is the mat-
Mabel got up at that, tumbling the
chair to the floor in her haste.
She put her hands over her face,
her poor red ugly hands, and wept
almost hysterically.
Jimmy took her in his arms, and
learned the truth. It was their 20th
wedding anniversary, and Jimmy
had forgotten it. He hadn't spoken
even a pleasant word to her in
months. He didn't love her any
more. She had tried so hard to be
a good wife to him. She had toiled
for him 20 years. She had rubbed
the skin off her knuckles washing
hii underwear and his shirts; she had
ruined her hands and reddened them
ironing his collars, and cooking his
dinners, keeping the house clean for
him.
"Look at those hands," she de
manded suddenly, holding them out
before him, turning them to show
the palms and the backs. "Look at
those hands that I was once so
proud of. They were beautiful when
I married you. Look at them now,
Jimmy Turner. Twenty years. Stav
ing. Nobody else in all the world
would work for you like I have. But
I loved you. I w as a fool I Do j-ou
love me? I can't even get a pleasant
look from you and today "
i
and could
easily prove it I
"Aw, you don't git me that way,"
he said contemptuously. "I bought
that watch."
The Third Degree.
All the way to the station he was
thinking what fools the police were,
and how easily he could get out of
the charge brought against him when
he appeared before a judge. But if
M'Gloin had only known what was
in the mind of Inspector Byrnes h;
would have gone to the cells in a
very different spirit, for he would
never leave them z free man again.
On just as' flimsy excuses Ban
field, Squires and Rogers, the other
three, w ere placed in the police cells,
each to play his part in the drama
which was to have its final act staged
in the execution shed.
The inspector let several days slip
by before he prepared the stage for
one of the most remarkable studies
of the criminal mind which has ever
been carried out.- Several times his
prisoners protested that they ought
to be brought up in front of a
judge, but the famous detective put
them off by telling them that he
was making" full inquiries about the
charges against them and as soon as
he was ready he would formally
charge them and not before. He had
a reason for -this keeping of these
four men, all in separate cells, for he
knew that slowly they would begin
to get afraid, each afraid of what
the others might do or say. And
the detective knew that once he got
them into that state of mind they
would be more likely to incriminate
themselves.
The first act in the drama he had
nreoared for was played in Inspector
Byrnes' room at headquarters. This
room is worth describing, for it had
been carefully arranged in order to
make McGioin lose his nerve and
break down.
Setting the Stage.
First of all, a glass case containing
the ropes which had hanged murder
ers caught the eye. Each terrible
relic of the last minutes of a man's
life was plainly labeled with the
name of the law's victim, and the
date uppn which he met his fate. A
chair had been placed for McGioin
beside a window looking out upon a
small courtyard. Anyone sitting in
the chair would have the full light
on his face, while Inspector Byrnes
would be sitting in shadow. All
around the room were mirrors, so
that the detective could see all that
happened without moving. Here is
Inspector Byrnes' own description of
what happened in that room after
McGioin had been brought in and
directed to sit down.
"I talked with him a while, then
touched a button as a signal that
Rogers was to be led across the yard
in plain view of the prisoner seated
at the window. I pretended to be
busy at my desk, but was watching
McGloin's face. A sudden pallor ap
peared thereon at the sight of Rogers
and he turned his eyes in my direc
tion. In them was the glare of a
hunted animal at bay. I asked him
several trivial questions about the
old watch, which lay upon the desk
in front of me. Five minutes later
another signal was given to the staff
downstairs, and Squires was taken
across the court, where McGioin
could see him.
"The rack never inflicted greater
agony upon a human creature than
the prisoner was suffering. He tried
to laugh at one of his own phrases,
but it was a ghastly mockery, for
tears were in his eyes and large
"There, there, sweetheart," said the
soothing Jimmy. "I didn't forget.".
He gave her the candy, and the
theater tickets.
She was transformed. She was a
girl again, the wife he used to know.
She gave him a hundred kisses. She
squeezed him. She rumpled his hair.
She laughed until she cried, and
cried until she laughed.
"No one could ever love you like
I do," she said, and ran to get
dressed for the theater, munching a
chocolate and trying to talk through
it.
She left Jimmy dazed, shamed,
and yet jubilant.
He was shamed because what his
wife had said to him was true. It
was his fault that her hands were
red and ugly. He had squeezed the
whiteness and the shapeliness and
the tenderness out of them. He had
even squeezed the joy out of her
life.
And then, when he had made her
a frump, what had he done but com
pare her to a younger girl? A chit
of a girl who had never worked for
the comfort of any man, whose
hands were still white and glorious.
and whose laugh
Jimmy's meditations were cut
short. Mabel was standing in the
doorway, dressed for the show. She
was dressed in prim oyster linen, a
shiny brass brooch at the throat,
her old shoes, her ridiculous old hat
with its faded flowers, her mended
old gloves, and that terrible thing
that once had been a coat.
"How my pretty pal would laugh
at that!" Jimmy said to himself. He
cculd even hear her laugh; and it
enraged hiin. In that minute all the
love that Jimmy Turner had ever
felt for Gladys Hagen was put aside
forever.
"Ready?" he asked. "I've bee.i
waiting weeks for this one night. I
wanted to surprise you, dear. That's
why I didn't tell you soon as I came
in. Y'ou know what I was thinking
when I watched you cooking din
ner? Y'ou were turning the gas up
and down, you know, now this
burner, then that. I thought of the
organist at the cathedral playing a
wondertui nymn.
Lome on, we
my pretty pal."
mustn't be late
the watch legitimately
beads of perspiration upon his fore
head. "'That's a pretty bad gang you
belong to,' said 1.
" 'We don't moan no harm to any
body,' he replied, with a tremor in
his voice. 'We get a little full of
booze sometimes, but nothin' worse.'
'"How do you make a living?
Where do you earn money to pay
for your suppers?' 1 asked casually,
as if a natural inquiry. "
'"You see, it's like this, Mr, In
spector A Picture of Terror.
"That explanation never came,
for, while putting mv query 1 had
again pressed the button, and Ban
held, unseen by the other two pris
oners downstairs, was given the
parade. The officer having him in
charge had been directed to call
Banlield's attention to M'Gloin,
seated in the window above.
"Although 1 couldn't see into the
court, 1 knew exactly what was oc
curring below. M'Gloin's face be
came a picture of terror. Throwing
himself down upon his knees, the
panic-stricken brute crawled to
wards me, wringing his hands and
begging
" 'Oh. Mr. Inspector, be good to
me! I'll do anything for you.
What do you want me for?'"
Instead of replying, the detective
pointed to the glass case.
"Those are rather interesting," he
said. "I'll tell you their history."
He absolutely ignored the terror
in M'Gloin's face and appeared not
to notice how violently the criminal
was trembling. Slowly he related
the history of each rope and the de
tails of the men it had sent to eter
nity. Each had a murder to tell,
and at the end of the last story the
detective suddenly snapped out the
question"
"What do you know of the Han
ier murder?"
"Nothing," cried M'Gloin, his
nerves now strung up to the highest
pitch.
"Y'ou know nothing about a case
that has filled the papers for weeks?"
echoed Byrnes.
"Well, I only know what I've
read in the papers," replied M'Gloin
doggedly.
Byrnes was silent for some time.
Every minute that passed he knew
would make the man facing him
feel more and more uncomfortable,
and that was precisely the state into
which he wanted him to be. M'Gloin
had already lost his nerve once, and
the second time he would probably
break down completely.
Quietly and unseen by M'Gloin,
Byrnes pressed a button on his
desk. Immediately, without anv
warning knock, the door opened and
a man in civilian clothes entered the
room. M'Gloin gavee a gasp when
he saw him, for it was the pawn
broker with whom the 37-caliber re
volver had been pawned. Without
saying anything, the pawnbroker
walked over to the desk oi the in
spector and laid upon it a revolver
in full view of M'Gloin and walked
silently out of the room.
Confesion.
The uncanny stillness, the absence
of any word either on the part of
Inspector Byrnes or the pawnbroker
was too much for M'Gloin.
"What do you want?" he burst,
out.
"T . . . - t II i . ..
i nam iu khow an aoout the
murder of Louts Hanier," replied
the detective. "You know," he
added suddenly, "and you are from
no w under arrest fur killing him."
M'Gloin collapsed in his chair.
He made a desperate effort to con
trol himself, but failed.
"H ave the fellows below given m
away?" he whimpered.
"They want to save their necks. 1
suppose, replied Byrnes, 'without
giving the direct answer,
"I knew they were a pack ol
curs," said M'Gloin savagely,
"They're as guilty as I am, curst
them."
The sweat was pouring down hit
face, for the strain of the hist ho tit
had been more than he could stand
He broke down completely and coiv
fessed- in full the part he ha
played in the murder. Each of tin
other three men under a searchin
cross-examination by Byrnes cor.
roborated one another in the detaili
of the crime. They admitted thai
they had broken into the cafe in
crder to rob the Frenchman of tin
large sum of money which they
knew he would have as a result of
his Christmas trade. When Hanier
appeared at the head of the stairs
M'Gloin had fancied he had seen a
revolver in his hand, and fired at
once without giving the unfortunate
man a chance.
An interesting sequel came to
light after the arrest of M'Gloin be
came known. Inspector Byrnes sent
for the girl who had helped him so
much at the beginning to track
down the wanted man. She was told
that she would receive the $300 re
ward for the help she had given the
police.
"Is Mr. Banfield in it?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the detcctie
"Oh," she exclaimed. "Ohl" and
placing her baud over her heait. she
burst into tears. "Ohl don't bang
him, don't. He's lots of good in him.
He's only got off the track. He loves
me and I love him! Save him, Mr.
Inspector, save him!"
Throughout the trial the unhappy
girl, a picture of grief and remorse,
haunted the court room and the
prison. She frequently bought Ban
field comforts. "I never saw a purer
or more devoted love, in any wo
man." said Byrnes afterward;.
M'Gloin made a desperate fight for
his life, but it was of no av;;il. He
was convicted in March, 3882, of tin
murder of the cafe keeper and exe
cuted. His companions were
sentenced to 20 years' imprisonment.
What became of the girl who had
brought her lover so near to the
scaffold was never known, for she
disappeared completely after the
trial.
(Another World's Greatest Detec
tive Story Next Sunday).