Johnston McCulley

“ Bertram Blaine was a mystery to his neighbors. He did not seek human companionship. He seemed to be pleasant enough when one met him, but none ever learned his history. The story had started that he grieved over the death of his wife, and cared for nothing except his books and his flower gardens. Warwick grinned when he thought of these things now. There were many things persons did not know about their neighbors, he thought.
Glancing up and down the street while standing in the shadows cast by a giant tree, Warwick made sure that there was no human being within sight. ”

“ John Warwick knew better than to attempt to open that window with a jimmy. He was aware that such a proceeding would sound an alarm and warn Bertram Blaine.
Now he listened for another moment. Then he reached inside and cautiously rolled up the shade. He braced himself against the wall, and started to climb through the window.
Even experienced burglars admit that there is a ticklish moment when entering a house. A man never knows what he is likely to encounter on the inside. Warwick felt little shivers running up and down his spine. ”

“ Warwick never had been inside that house, but The Spider had told him all about it. The supercriminal had ways of gathering information, had men and women who did nothing else, who prepared the way for adventures but were not otherwise concerned in them.
Warwick even had his orders to get through a certain window. He knew that the windows were protected by an alarm system, that the house of Bertram Blaine had traps and devices for guarding its owner against intrusion. He knew, too, how to avoid the majority of them. ”