HOW TRACKER WAS TRACKED

NZ Truth, Issue 1187, 30 August 1928, Page 2

HOW TRACKER WAS TRACKED

DEMARKABLE though it may appear, there are a number of our sleuths who are adepts m swinging wicked toes on the ballroom's polished floor. And, really, there is something so grand and big about a detective who dances. We can well imagine the poor fellow coming home after a hard day engaged m catching some terrible desperado who had sold cigarettes after hours. Our bloodhound nonchalantly hangs his handcuffs over the clock, sets the alarm for eleven the next morning, and then seriously sets about making himself look like a bit of a sheikh. One detective — it would not be fair to say whom — who adorns our footprint chasers' brigade, is devoted to the art of trying to look like a spring nymph. He bounds into his dinner-suit quite often and, when dressed for the occasion, has the reasonable habit of slipping a bottle of water or something (feasibly "something") into his overcoat pocket. A few evenings ago he attended a cabaret and, at a fitting moment — such was his regard for the laws he enforces — he suggested a "spot." The idea was supported and he left for the cloak-room — and the bottle. But he never found it — and. never willi Footprints, finger prints, alibis and clues avail not. Some thirsty mortal saw the bottle and the flesh — about the gullet — was weak. The detective did not report the case. " U U U ll n U ttlH«