XXIV
FIVE INCHES OF DEATH
"Quinn," I said one evening when the veteran of the United States Secret Service appeared to be in one of his story-spinning moods, "you've told me of cases that have to do with smuggling and spies, robberies and fingerprints and frauds, but you've never mentioned the one crime that is most common in the annals of police courts and detective bureaus."
"Murder?" inquired Quinn, his eyes shifting to the far wall of his library-den.
"Precisely. Haven't government detectives ever been instrumental in solving a murder mystery?"
"Yes, they've been mixed up in quite a few of them. There was the little matter of the Hallowell case—where the crime and the criminal were connected by a shoelace—and the incident of 'The Red Circle.' But murder, as such, does not properly belong in the province of the government detective. Only when it is accompanied by some breach of the federal laws does it come under the jurisdiction of the men from Washington. Like the Montgomery murder mystery, for example."
"Oh yes, the one connected with the postmark that's framed on your wall over there!" I exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that. Hal Preston handled it, didn't he—the same man responsible for running down 'The Trail of the White Mice'?"
"That's the one," said Quinn, and I was glad to see him settle luxuriously back in his old armchair—for that meant that he was preparing to recall the details of an adventure connected with a member of one of the government detective services.