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Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin) Reeve
Arthur Benjamin Reeve (1880-1936) was an American author best known for his detective stories featuring the scientific detective Craig Kennedy, often referred to as "The American Sherlock Holmes." Reeve's work, beginning with "The Silent Bullet" in 1910, utilized then-modern scientific techniques and forensic methods, bringing a unique twist to the genre of crime fiction. Over his career, he wrote 18 novels and numerous short stories, many of which were adapted into films and serials, significantly influencing early 20th-century popular culture.
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I. The Silent Bullet "Detectives in fiction nearly always make a great mistake," said Kennedy one evening after our first conversation on crime and science. "They almost invariably antagonize the regular detective force. Now in real life that's impossible—it's fatal." "Yes," I agreed, looking up from reading an account of the failure of a large Wall Street brokerage...
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THE POISONED PEN Kennedy's suit-case was lying open on the bed, and he was literally throwing things into it from his chiffonier, as I entered after a hurried trip up-town from the Star office in response to an urgent message from him. "Come, Walter," he cried, hastily stuffing in a package of clean laundry without taking off the wrapping-paper, "I've got your suit-case out. Pack...
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CHAPTER I THE SERPENT SIGN Rescued by Kennedy at last from the terrible incubus of Bennett's persecution in his double life of lawyer and master criminal, Elaine had, for the first time in many weeks, a feeling of security. Now that the strain was off, however, she felt that she needed rest and a chance to recover herself and it occurred to her that a few quiet days with "Aunt" Tabitha,...
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THE TREASURE-TRAIN "I am not by nature a spy, Professor Kennedy, but—well, sometimes one is forced into something like that." Maude Euston, who had sought out Craig in his laboratory, was a striking girl, not merely because she was pretty or because her gown was modish. Perhaps it was her sincerity and artlessness that made her attractive. She was the daughter of Barry Euston, president of...
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CHAPTER I THE WAR TERROR "I must see Professor Kennedy—where is he?—I must see him, forGod's sake!" I was almost carried off my feet by the inrush of a wild-eyed girl, seemingly half crazed with excitement, as she cried out Craig's name. Startled by my own involuntary exclamation of surprise which followed the vision that shot past me as I opened our door in response to a sudden,...
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CHAPTER I THE STOLEN MOTOR "You are aware, I suppose, Marshall, that there have been considerably over a million dollars' worth of automobiles stolen in this city during the past few months?" asked Guy Garrick one night when I had dropped into his office. "I wasn't aware of the exact extent of the thefts, though of course I knew of their existence," I replied. "What's...
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THE PERUVIAN DAGGER "There's something weird and mysterious about the robbery, Kennedy. They took the very thing I treasure most of all, an ancient Peruvian dagger." Professor Allan Norton was very much excited as he dropped intoCraig's laboratory early that forenoon. Norton, I may say, was one of the younger members of the faculty, like Kennedy. Already, however, he had made for...
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CHAPTER I THE CLUTCHING HAND "Jameson, here's a story I wish you'd follow up," remarked the managing editor of the Star to me one evening after I had turned in an assignment of the late afternoon. He handed me a clipping from the evening edition of the Star and I quickly ran my eye over the headline: "THE CLUTCHING HAND" WINS AGAIN NEW YORK'S MYSTERIOUS MASTER CRIMINAL...
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I A CAMERA CRIME "Camera!" Kennedy and I had been hastily summoned from his laboratory in the city by District-Attorney Mackay, and now stood in the luxurious, ornate library in the country home of Emery Phelps, the banker, at Tarrytown. "Camera!—you know the call when the director is ready to shoot a scene of a picture?—well—at the moment it was given and the first and second camera...
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THE VANISHER "Hello, Jameson, is Kennedy in?" I glanced up from the evening papers to encounter the square- jawed, alert face of District Attorney Carton in the doorway of our apartment. "How do you do, Judge?" I exclaimed. "No, but I expect him any second now. Won't you sit down?" The District Attorney dropped, rather wearily I thought, into a chair and looked at his...
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