Mr.Thornden frequently went to the theater, but invariably alone.
Thus, they attracted little or no attention among the clerks and bell boys and waiters who had, in the course of the year, waited upon the wants of a royal duke and a grand duke, to say nothing of a maharajah, who was still at the hotel.

An ordinary touring Englishman was, then, nothing more than that.
Until one day a newspaper reporter glanced carelessly through the hotel register.

The only thing which escapes the newspaper man is the art of saving; otherwise he is omnipotent.

He sees things, anticipates events, and often prearranges them; smells war if the secretary of the navy is seen to run for a street-car, is intimately acquainted with "the official in the position to know" and "the man higher up," "the gentleman on the inside," and other anonymous but famous individuals.
He is tireless, impervious to rebuff, also relentless; as an investigator of crime he is the keenest hound of them all; often he does more than expose, he prevents.

He is the Warwick of modern times; he makes and unmakes kings, sceptral and financial.
This particular reporter sent his card up to Mr.Thornden and was, after half an hour's delay, admitted to the suite.