Transcriber’s Note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. * * * * * Multum in Parvo Library. Vol. I. DECEMBER, 1894. _Published Monthly._ No. 12. Book of Brief Narratives. _Smallest Magazine in the World. Subscription price, 50 cts. per year. Single copies, 5 cents each._ PUBLISHED BY A. B. COURTNEY, 671 Tremont Street, Boston. * * * * * DETECTIVE STORIES. From the Diary of a New York Detective. EDITED BY FRANK PEMMON. A Chance Meeting. Several years ago I was detailed to undertake the solution of a mystery surrounding a robbery which had baffled the police for a month or more. Then two detectives had been set at work upon it and had failed to locate the thief. I was given the case. I did not exactly succeed in finding the thief, but I brought him to justice, just the same. How, you shall see. The house of Mr. Bond had been broken into and a large amount of jewelry stolen. Among the latter was a handsome gold watch belonging to the daughter of Mr. Bond. It had been a birthday present from her mother, and was highly prized by her. Her father offered a large reward for its recovery. I called at the home of Mr. Bond to get a description of the missing jewelry and whatever other information the family could give me. This was little enough. The jewelry had been stolen and no trace of the thief was to be found. That was all. I was expected, with no clue whatever to work upon, to ferret out and bring the thief to justice, and at the same time recover Miss Bond’s watch. The only thing that the thief had left behind him was a piece of paper on which was written the words: “Remember the poor.” I did not regard this as being of any importance, and gave it little or no thought. I was a young man at the time, unmarried, and, as it may be guessed, susceptible to the charms of pretty girls. Miss Bond--Clara--was a pretty girl, and I may as well confess, I fell in love with her at first sight. I also made an impression upon her. This caused me all the more eagerly to work up the case and try to bring it to a successful conclusion. Who knows, thought I, what may be at the end of it? I made a good many visits to the Bond house, nominally to seek information, in reality to gaze upon the face of the charming Miss Bond. My search for the thief did not progress very favorably. In fact, I had made no progress whatever. It promised to remain an unsolved mystery. I could not find the thief. Now comes the strange part of the story--how the thief found me. I had just boarded a railway train when a man followed me, and quietly slipped into the seat next to me. He carried a small bag which he hid under the seat. I also had a bag somewhat similar to his own. “Well, Jimmy,” he remarked, “how did you succeed?”