“He be in the parlour, keeping ’em all alive. Shall I call him?” “No; I’ll go in there myself.” Upon entering the public room Mr. Wrench found it three parts filled with people, most of whom were in some way or other connected with agriculture. Peace rose from his seat and drew near the detective, who had taken his place in a corner near the door. It was not Mr. Wrench’s usual practice to make persons acquainted with his movements or proceedings, but in this case he felt that Peace had a perfect right to know, and he therefore narrated to him the successful nature of his expectations. This, perhaps, was not altogether a prudent thing to do in a public room, even though the conversation between the two was carried on in a tone which was but a little beyond a whisper. But our detective was under the full impression that there were none present who even comprehended their discourse, and certainly none who were in any way interested in the same. But even detectives, with all their caution, are sometimes at fault. This has been made apparent recently to a very painful extent. The Kurr and Benson case took people by surprise, and shook the confidence of the public in police detectives. Everybody vaguely felt that an official inquiry must be held. Our detectives are seldom men of much education. In books of superior fiction they figure as prodigies of acuteness, but the testimony of all who come in contact with them professionally is that they are rather dull and unenterprising, and somewhat thirsty officials, and that the chase of a criminal will be much stimulated by occasional consultations at bars and public-house parlours. They have sprung from the ranks, and have gained promotion for qualities which are chiefly of use in tracking down and “running in” a receiver of stolen goods, or in apprehending a notorious pickpocket who was “wanted.” The ordinary detective is of service in watching the movements of ticket-of-leave men or persons under the surveillance of the police. In short, he is a match for the stupid, small-brained criminal, but he is of little use when society bids him capture gentlemanly rogues with plenty of money, ingenuity, and address. It is, however, unavoidable that, if crime is to be tracked, there should be a set of policemen acting in secret. It is obvious to what dangers the men who are thus employed must be constantly exposed. The atmosphere in which they live is not a wholesome one. They have to mix in an insidious manner with the criminal classes――to resort to all sorts of tricks and stratagems in order to collect particulars which could not be obtained in a straightforward way. Moreover, men in such a position have a great deal of power in their hands, and may be tempted to use it nefariously, by making terms with those after whom they are sent, and by giving them hints of danger or opportunities of escape.