He is a magician, a scientist, the Pierpont Morgan of his profession." "Say, do you mean that he is a detective ?" The New Yorker steadied himself with an effort.

Such ignorance was hard to realise--harder still to deal with.
"Yes," he said simply, "you could call him that--just in the same way you could call Napoleon a soldier or Lincoln a statesman.

He is a detective, if you like to call him that, the master detective of the world.

He has a great house in one of the backwater squares of New York, for his office.
He has wireless telegraphy, private chemists, a little troop of spies, private telegraph and cable, and agents in every city of the world.

If he moves against any gang, they break up.