Guy Garrick HTML version

3.The Mystery Of The Thicket
"You know my ideas on modern detective work," Garrick remarked to me,
reflectively, when they had gone.
I nodded assent, for we had often discussed the subject.
"There must be something new in order to catch criminals, nowadays," he
pursued. "The old methods are all right--as far as they go. But while we have
been using them, criminals have kept pace with modern science."
I had met Garrick several months before on the return trip from abroad, and had
found in him a companion spirit.
For some years I had been editing a paper which I called "The Scientific World,"
and it had taxed my health to the point where my physician had told me that I
must rest, or at least combine pleasure with business. Thus I had taken the
voyage across the ocean to attend the International Electrical Congress in
London, and had unexpectedly been thrown in with Guy Garrick, who later
seemed destined to play such an important part in my life.
Garrick was a detective, young, university bred, of good family, alert, and an
interesting personality to me. He had travelled much, especially in London, Paris,
Berlin, and Vienna, where he had studied the amazing growth abroad of the new
criminal science.
Already I knew something, by hearsay, of the men he had seen, Gross,
Lacassagne, Reiss, and the now immortal Bertillon. Our acquaintance, therefore,
had rapidly ripened into friendship, and on our return, I had formed a habit of
dropping in frequently on him of an evening, as I had this night, to smoke a pipe
or two and talk over matters of common interest in his profession.