He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police
card, a fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after
year, were the only instruments of his trade ever in evidence.
Shirley took assignments only from the heads of certain agencies,
by personal arrangement as informal as this from Captain Cronin.
His real clients never knew of his participation, and his prey
never understood that he had been the real head-hunter!
His fees--Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his
artistry worthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest
fortune to the detective agency and Shirley's bills were never
rendered, but always paid!
So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union,
the gallant of a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing
engagements, the veteran of a thousand drolleries and merry
jousts in clubdom--unspoiled by birth, breeding and wealth,
untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boiling and the
salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession of
confidential, consulting criminal chaser.
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