“Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!” cried my office-boy, as I opened the door. “You're wanted on the telephone.” Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had made him a trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as I took up the receiver. But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, and my own nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. It was from the Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the superintendent himself was directing me to go at once to West Sedgwick, where a terrible crime had just been discovered. “Killed!” I exclaimed; “Joseph Crawford?” “Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned to send a detective at once and we want you to go.” “Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?” “No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found this morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr. Burroughs; we want you to lose no time.” Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knew he was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death would mean excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or home-life, I knew nothing. “I'll go right off,” I assured the Chief, and turned away from the telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains in a timetable. “Good boy, Don,” said I approvingly; “what's the next train to West Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?” “You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi an' shoot the tunnel,” said Donovan, who was rather a graphic conversationalist. “That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?” “So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in financial circles.” “Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz. When'll you be back?” “Don't know, Don. You look after things.” “Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when you have 'em.” By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief's orders to lose no time. Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could possibly be to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues were obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experience with the police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principal types. Either they were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which covered a bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked with a misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligent detective. Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the former, but the danger was that I should encounter both. On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, by endeavoring to “deduce” the station or occupation of my fellow passengers.