Nominally, he was everybody's dog, and so were they; actually he found himself at the head of a tiny department of his own, because it was nobody's affair to give him orders.

They had deliberately turned him loose "to hang himself," and their hope that he might get his head into a noose of trouble as soon as possible--the very liberty they gave him, on purpose for his quick damnation--was the means of making reputation for him.
Nobody advised him; so with singularly British phlegm and not more than ordinary common sense he devised a method of his own for scotching night-prowlers.

He stationed his men at well-considered vantage-points, and trusted them.

With a party of ten, he patrolled the city ceaselessly himself and whipped every "watchman" he caught sleeping.

One by one, the blackmailing brigade began to see the discomfort of a job that called for real wakefulness, and deserted over the Hills to urge the resumption of raids in force.