Detective Bob Bridger — page 19: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

is DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. Vintegine. ne stated his business to the sergeant at the desk. “You are an entire stranger in London?” asked the officer. : : “Precisely,” returned Bridger. ‘‘In all Europe there is nothing with which I am familiar save, possibly, the face © of the man I seek.” ‘You will then require an assistant, but whom to as- sign Iam puzzled to know. Our men are all very busy at present—at least such of them as I might choose to aid you best. Let me see— At that moment a tall, handsome young man entered. hastily from the street. His attire, although not showy, was as faultless as if he had stepped forth from a bandbox, and any lady would have voted him on sight a charming young gentleman. His air was social and easy going—that of a man who could bounce into a better acquaintanceship in five minutes than the majority of men could accomplish, with the same subject, in as many years. His face was clean shaven, his features were regular, and his eyes the most magnetic and marvelous that Bridger had ever beheld—save in a looking-glass. They were large, black, kind, laughing eyes, but so clear and piercing that, as they squarely met Bridger’s searching eray orbs, a mutual and involuntary shudder coursed through the nerves of the two young men. ‘‘Ah, here is Fandon!” said the sergeant. ‘‘I’ll send him out with you.” | ‘In an instant [ll be with you,” qucth Fandon, and he darted by to an inner office to report a case he had been at work upon. “If any man can aid you he can,” said the officer. ‘‘He is the youngest man on the metropolitan force, but there is no shrewder detective in Scotland Yard.” A moment later Fandon stood at the desk awaiting or- | ders. The sergeant introduced Bridger as an American detec- tive, and stated the nature of his business. | Bridger then, at his request, gave an accurate descrip- tion of Richard Hanford. As he finished speaking the Scotch detective grasped his hand and shook it warmly. “It’s a pleasure once in a while to shake a live Yankes? S hand, isn’t it, sergeant?” he said. ‘They have things pretty much their own way over there, with their baked 7 ie ecomicbooks.com