All went well during a fortnight--then my calamities began. The white elephant was stolen! I was called up at dead of night and informed of this fearful misfortune. For some moments I was beside myself with terror and anxiety; I was helpless. Then I grew calmer and collected my faculties. I soon saw my course--for, indeed, there was but the one course for an intelligent man to pursue. Late as it was, I flew to New York and got a policeman to conduct me to the headquarters of the detective force. Fortunately I arrived in time, though the chief of the force, the celebrated Inspector Blunt was just on the point of leaving for his home. He was a man of middle size and compact frame, and when he was thinking deeply he had a way of kniting his brows and tapping his forehead reflectively with his finger, which impressed you at once with the conviction that you stood in the presence of a person of no common order. The very sight of him gave me confidence and made me hopeful. I stated my errand. It did not flurry him in the least; it had no more visible effect upon his iron self-possession than if I had told him somebody had stolen my dog. He motioned me to a seat, and said, calmly: “Allow me to think a moment, please.” So saying, he sat down at his office table and leaned his head upon his hand. Several clerks were at work at the other end of the room; the scratching of their pens was all the sound I heard during the next six or seven minutes. Meantime the inspector sat there, buried in thought. Finally he raised his head, and there was that in the firm lines of his face which showed me that his brain had done its work and his plan was made. Said he--and his voice was low and impressive: “This is no ordinary case. Every step must be warily taken; each step must be made sure before the next is ventured. And secrecy must be observed--secrecy profound and absolute. Speak to no one about the matter, not even the reporters. I will take care of them; I will see that they get only what it may suit my ends to let them know.” He touched a bell; a youth appeared. “Alaric, tell the reporters to remain for the present.” The boy retired. “Now let us proceed to business--and systematically. Nothing can be accomplished in this trade of mine without strict and minute method.” He took a pen and some paper. “Now--name of the elephant?” “Hassan Ben Ali Ben Selim Abdallah Mohammed Moisé Alhammal Jamsetjejeebhoy Dhuleep Sultan Ebu Bhudpoor.” “Very well. Given name?” “Jumbo.” “Very well. Place of birth?” “The capital city of Siam.” “Parents living?” “No--dead.” “Had they any other issue besides this one?” “None. He was an only child.” “Very well. These matters are sufficient under that head. Now please describe the elephant, and leave out no particular, however insignificant--that is, insignificant from your point of view. To men in my profession there are no insignificant particulars; they do not exist.” I described, he wrote. When I was done, he said: