The Stolen White Elephant | Page 7

my heart sick to read. Their general tone was like this:
THE WHITE ELEPHANT AT LARGE! HE MOVES UPON HIS
FATAL MARCH WHOLE VILLAGES DESERTED BY THEIR
FRIGHT-STRICKEN OCCUPANTS! PALE TERROR GOES
BEFORE HIM, DEATH AND DEVASTATION FOLLOW AFTER!
AFTER THESE, THE DETECTIVES! BARNS DESTROYED,
FACTORIES GUTTED, HARVESTS DEVOURED, PUBLIC
ASSEMBLAGES DISPERSED, ACCOMPANIED BY SCENES OF
CARNAGE IMPOSSIBLE TO DESCRIBE! THEORIES OF
THIRTY-FOUR OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED DETECTIVES
ON THE FORCES! THEORY OF CHIEF BLUNT!
"There!" said Inspector Blunt, almost betrayed into excitement, "this is
magnificent! This is the greatest windfall that any detective
organization ever had. The fame of it will travel to the ends of the earth,
and endure to the end of time, and my name with it."
But there was no joy for me. I felt as if I had committed all those red
crimes, and that the elephant was only my irresponsible agent. And
how the list had grown! In one place he had "interfered with an election
and killed five repeaters." He had followed this act with the destruction
of two pool fellows, named O'Donohue and McFlannigan, who had
"found a refuge in the home of the oppressed of all lands only the day
before, and were in the act of exercising for the first time the noble
right of American citizens at the polls, when stricken down by the
relentless hand of the Scourge of Siam." In another, he had "found a
crazy sensation- preacher preparing his next season's heroic attacks on
the dance, the theater, and other things which can't strike back, and had
stepped on him." And in still another place he had "killed a
lightning-rod agent." And so the list went on, growing redder and
redder, and more and more heartbreaking. Sixty persons had been
killed, and two hundred and forty wounded. All the accounts bore just

testimony to the activity and devotion of the detectives, and all closed
with the remark that "three hundred thousand citizen; and four
detectives saw the dread creature, and two of the latter he destroyed."
I dreaded to hear the telegraphic instrument begin to click again. By
and by the messages began to pour in, but I was happily disappointed in
they nature. It was soon apparent that all trace of the elephant was lost.
The fog had enabled him to search out a good hiding-place unobserved.
Telegrams from the most absurdly distant points reported that a dim
vast mass had been glimpsed there through the fog at such and such an
hour, and was "undoubtedly the elephant." This dim vast mass had been
glimpsed in New Haven, in New Jersey, in Pennsylvania, in interior
New York, in Brooklyn, and even in the city of New York itself! But in
all cases the dim vast mass had vanished quickly and left no trace.
Every detective of the large force scattered over this huge extent of
country sent his hourly report, and each and every one of them had a
clue, and was shadowing something, and was hot upon the heels of it.
But the day passed without other result.
The next day the same.
The next just the same.
The newspaper reports began to grow monotonous with facts that
amounted to nothing, clues which led to nothing, and theories which
had nearly exhausted the elements which surprise and delight and
dazzle.
By advice of the inspector I doubled the reward.
Four more dull days followed. Then came a bitter blow to the poor,
hard-working detectives--the journalists declined to print their theories,
and coldly said, "Give us a rest."
Two weeks after the elephant's disappearance I raised the reward to
seventy-five thousand dollars by the inspector's advice. It was a great
sum, but I felt that I would rather sacrifice my whole private fortune

than lose my credit with my government. Now that the detectives were
in adversity, the newspapers turned upon them, and began to fling the
most stinging sarcasms at them. This gave the minstrels an idea, and
they dressed themselves as detectives and hunted the elephant on the
stage in the most extravagant way. The caricaturists made pictures of
detectives scanning the country with spy-glasses, while the elephant, at
their backs, stole apples out of their pockets. And they made all sorts of
ridiculous pictures of the detective badge--you have seen that badge
printed in gold on the back of detective novels, no doubt it is a
wide-staring eye, with the legend, "WE NEVER SLEEP." When
detectives called for a drink, the would-be facetious barkeeper
resurrected an obsolete form of expression and said, "Will you have an
eye-opener?" All the air was thick with sarcasms.
But there was one man who moved calm, untouched, unaffected,
through it all. It was that heart of oak, the chief inspector. His brave eye
never drooped, his serene