The Dynamiter | Page 4

unconnected knowledge, all that we are and have builds up the
character of the complete detective. It is, in short, the only profession
for a gentleman.'
'The proposition is perhaps excessive,' replied Challoner; 'for hitherto I

own I have regarded it as of all dirty, sneaking, and ungentlemanly
trades, the least and lowest.'
'To defend society?' asked Somerset; 'to stake one's life for others? to
deracinate occult and powerful evil? I appeal to Mr. Godall. He, at least,
as a philosophic looker-on at life, will spit upon such philistine
opinions. He knows that the policeman, as he is called upon continually
to face greater odds, and that both worse equipped and for a better
cause, is in form and essence a more noble hero than the soldier. Do
you, by any chance, deceive yourself into supposing that a general
would either ask or expect, from the best army ever marshalled, and on
the most momentous battle-field, the conduct of a common constable at
Peckham Rye?' {1}
'I did not understand we were to join the force,' said Challoner.
'Nor shall we. These are the hands; but here--here, sir, is the head,'
cried Somerset. 'Enough; it is decreed. We shall hunt down this
miscreant in the sealskin coat.'
'Suppose that we agreed,' retorted Challoner, 'you have no plan, no
knowledge; you know not where to seek for a beginning.'
'Challoner!' cried Somerset, 'is it possible that you hold the doctrine of
Free Will? And are you devoid of any tincture of philosophy, that you
should harp on such exploded fallacies? Chance, the blind Madonna of
the Pagan, rules this terrestrial bustle; and in Chance I place my sole
reliance. Chance has brought us three together; when we next separate
and go forth our several ways, Chance will continually drag before our
careless eyes a thousand eloquent clues, not to this mystery only, but to
the countless mysteries by which we live surrounded. Then comes the
part of the man of the world, of the detective born and bred. This clue,
which the whole town beholds without comprehension, swift as a cat,
he leaps upon it, makes it his, follows it with craft and passion, and
from one trifling circumstance divines a world.'
'Just so,' said Challoner; 'and I am delighted that you should recognise
these virtues in yourself. But in the meanwhile, dear boy, I own myself
incapable of joining. I was neither born nor bred as a detective, but as a
placable and very thirsty gentleman; and, for my part, I begin to weary
for a drink. As for clues and adventures, the only adventure that is ever
likely to occur to me will be an adventure with a bailiff.'
'Now there is the fallacy,' cried Somerset. 'There I catch the secret of

your futility in life. The world teems and bubbles with adventure; it
besieges you along the street: hands waving out of windows, swindlers
coming up and swearing they knew you when you were abroad, affable
and doubtful people of all sorts and conditions begging and truckling
for your notice. But not you: you turn away, you walk your seedy mill
round, you must go the dullest way. Now here, I beg of you, the next
adventure that offers itself, embrace it in with both your arms; whatever
it looks, grimy or romantic, grasp it. I will do the like; the devil is in it,
but at least we shall have fun; and each in turn we shall narrate the
story of our fortunes to my philosophic friend of the divan, the great
Godall, now hearing me with inward joy. Come, is it a bargain? Will
you, indeed, both promise to welcome every chance that offers, to
plunge boldly into every opening, and, keeping the eye wary and the
head composed, to study and piece together all that happens? Come,
promise: let me open to you the doors of the great profession of
intrigue.'
'It is not much in my way,' said Challoner, 'but, since you make a point
of it, amen.'
'I don't mind promising,' said Desborough, 'but nothing will happen to
me.'
'O faithless ones!' cried Somerset. 'But at least I have your promises;
and Godall, I perceive, is transported with delight.'
'I promise myself at least much pleasure from your various narratives,'
said the salesman, with the customary calm polish of his manner.
'And now, gentlemen,' concluded Somerset, 'let us separate. I hasten to
put myself in fortune's way. Hark how, in this quiet corner, London
roars like the noise of battle; four million destinies are here concentred;
and in the strong panoply of one hundred pounds, payable to the bearer,
I am about to plunge into that web.'

CHALLONER'S ADVENTURE: THE SQUIRE OF DAMES

Mr. Edward Challoner had set up lodgings in the suburb