Harold MacGrath

“ He was a great detective, for here he was, at the end of the chase, beaten by a peculiar phase and not by stupidity. The patience, the infinite painstaking, that had brought him like a true hunting-hound into this room! ”

“ Haggerty blew out thick clouds of smoke, then sucked it in gratefully.
“All my fault,” repeated Crawford. “I've made a criminal out of an honest man.”
“Don't you worry about that,” reassured Haggerty. “Let me tell you something. We're all criminals, only some of us go through without provocation 'r opportunity. Get me?”
The others nodded.
“Well, nobody puts his hand int' another man's jewel-box for th' sport of it—unless he's a rich man like you, Mr. Crawford, an' wants an exciting joke. ”

“ I held off th' thumb-print till now, an' there's where I fall down.”
“My fault! Why, I am almost as guilty as he is. He used to watch me most carefully whenever I opened a safe in sport.”
“Sure, he did. An' say, take it from me, Mr. Crawford, he had a good teacher. There ain't a yegg in th' country who can do it neater than you; only it's amateurish. I mean, you didn't use any of th' stuff used by th' professionals. Say! I've a mind t' run you in an' lock you up as it is. Some o' these smooth ones'll be kidnaping you an' making you do th' work.” Haggerty smiled, but his heart was heavy. ”