Detectives, Inc.: A Mystery Story for Boys

The Essentials to Success

There are no secrets which The Seeing Eye uses to make the shepherd an effective guide, but there are several essentials to success. The first is experience. The knowledge gained by the years of work which have gone into the development of The Seeing Eye is called upon in the education of every student. A second essential is that the carefully selected dog is educated, not trained. She is taught to think for herself and in her instruction learns certain principles which she can apply to problems she will meet later. If she reacted only to commands she would be useless in guiding blind people. Another essential is the fact that she loves to work. To her, service is a pleasure and not a duty. Her master's hours are hers. Her main compensation is her master's affection and his utter reliance on her.

Blind students, men and women, come to the school in classes of eight, the maximum an instructor is able to teach at one time. While their major objective is to learn through practice and instruction how to direct the dog and follow her guidance, some of them must learn other things, too. Many of them since blindness have lost the faculty of finding their way in known surroundings. Others have fallen into the habit of shuffling feet and groping walk, with body bent forward and hands outstretched. Some never have walked down stairs unaided. These are things which must be unlearned if the dog is to bring independence. At The Seeing Eye the student is taught to free himself from these habits of helplessness, so that self-reliance and courage gradually return. Anticipation replaces despair as the dog opens a new world for her master, one he dreamed of but never hoped to have again.

All the practice work of the student with his dog takes place on the streets of Morristown. Here, morning and afternoon each day, the student gradually assimilates his lessons. Near the end of his month's course he is able to go easily and fearlessly about the city without an instructor, just as he will in his various activities on his return home.

The Dog and Her Master Are Inseparable

From the time the student is assigned his dog, the two are inseparable. No one else feeds or cares for her and within a few days the two are bound together by a mutual affection--a tie which remains unbroken throughout the years of the dog's working life. Even about the house, where no guiding is necessary, dog and man are constantly together just because they want to be. She even sleeps close by her master's bed.

For the sake of the story certain qualities have been given "Lady" which are found in individual German shepherd dogs, though never present in a blind leader.

DETECTIVES, INC. A Mystery Story for Boys

Theft in the Rain

Joe Morrow, very sleepy, grew conscious of voices coming up from the porch--the slow drawl of his uncle, Dr. David Stone, and a quicker, sharper voice. Abruptly the sharper tone scratched at his memory and the drowsiness was gone. What was Harley Kent doing here? So far as he knew the man had never visited the house before, and his uncle had never set foot on the Kent place a quarter of a mile down the road. A word, stark and clear, came through the bedroom window. Robbery! And suddenly he was out of bed and slipping into his clothes.

The morning was cool and fresh after the heavy rain of the night. His uncle stood at the porch railing, sightless eyes turned off across the valley, a great, tawny German shepherd dog at his side. Harley Kent crowded the top step, and Joe noticed that the dog sneezed, and grew restless, and drew back a step.

"Lady, easy." Dr. Stone's hand felt for the dog's head and rubbed a twitching ear. "When did you say it was discovered, Kent?"

"A little after six o'clock this morning. The maid found a window open and called me. The wall safe was open, too, and the necklace was gone. Could I trouble you for a match, Doctor? I've lost my lighter."

The man stepped upon the porch, and the dog sneezed again and retreated. Dr. Stone brought forth matches, and Harley Kent had to come close to get them. Joe was vaguely conscious that his uncle's face had become intent.

Harley Kent lit a cigar. "I'm not in the habit of keeping jewels in the house. Mrs. Kent's been in Europe; her ship docks next Monday. We're to attend a dinner that night, and I knew she'd want the necklace. I took it out of a safe deposit box a week ago and brought it home."

Dr. Stone asked a question. "Insured, of course?" "Certainly. Twenty-five thousand."

The boy sucked in his breath and wondered what twenty-five thousand dollars would look like piled up in shining half dollars. The Kent automobile gleamed in front of the house, and a uniformed chauffeur sat motionless behind the wheel.

"You've notified the police?"

"I tried to, but the storm last night crippled our telephone line. I came over to use yours."

"Ours is out, too."

Harley Kent made an impatient gesture. "That means I'll have to run into the village." The cigar came out of his mouth. "It was an inside job, Doctor. Whoever robbed that safe knew how to get into it. It was opened by combination."

Dr. Stone said coolly, "That's putting it on your own doorstep."

Harley Kent shrugged. "Figure it out for yourself. There were only three of us in the house--Donovan, the chauffeur, the maid, and myself. Two days ago I forgot to take some papers to New York. I telephoned Donovan to bring them in. They were in the safe and I had to give him the combination. Well, I'm off for the village. I understand you were a police surgeon before----" The man coughed.

"Yes," said Dr. Stone without emotion. "Before I lost my sight."

"Well, if you'd like to run over and get the feel of a case again----"

"It might be interesting," the doctor said slowly.

Harley Kent went down the steps, a door slammed, and the car rolled away. Joe had a glimpse of the uniformed figure at the wheel, and spoke in a hoarse whisper:

"Will Donovan be put in jail, Uncle David?"

"Perhaps." The hand came up from the dog's head and tapped the porch railing thoughtfully. "What time is it, Joe? About eight?"

"Five after."

"Two hours," Dr. Stone said as though speaking to himself. Abruptly he jerked his head. "Time we had breakfast," he added, and boy and dog followed at his heels. Here, in the home of his widowed sister that had sheltered him for five years, he knew his way perfectly, and there was nothing to mark him out as blind as he walked boldly toward the dining room. And yet at the last moment, his handicap touched him with uncertainty. He had to put out his hand to make sure of the table and then fumble for his chair.

Joe wondered about jails, and was sorry for Donovan. Twice the man had picked him up on the road and carried him into the village, and once he had spent a fascinating afternoon in the Kent garage holding tools while the chauffeur worked on the car. Did they lock a prisoner in a cell and keep him there night and day?

His mother's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're going over, David?"

"I have a reason for wanting to go," the man said.

Joe's heart throbbed. A reason for going. His throat was husky again. "Right away, Uncle David? A policeman has to get there while the trail is hot, doesn't he?"

"There are some trails," Dr. Stone said in his slow drawl, "that do not grow cold."

Out on the porch he filled a pipe and smoked quietly. Joe, watching that lion head topped by crisp, unruly white hair, wondered if his uncle ever became excited. He fidgeted and watched a clock; and by and by Dr. Stone knocked the ashes from his pipe, stood up, and took a dog's harness down from a nail.

The dog stretched its great body and held out its head. A stiff leash rose from either side of the harness and joined a wide, hard handle-grip at the top.

"Lady, forward!"

Slowly, protectingly, the massive animal took Dr. Stone down the steps and along the concrete walk to the road.