and slums, the inside of station-houses, bringing me in contact with the police and with some of the detectives, among them Alcorn of the Central Office, a man who had sought me out of his own accord.  Many of these trusted me and from them I gathered much of my material.  Now I explored other fields.  With the backing of the editor I often claimed seats at the opening of important conventions—­not so much political as social and scientific; so, too, at many of the public dinners given to our own and distinguished foreign guests, would a seat be reserved for me, my object being the study of men when they were off their guard—­reading their minds, finding out the man behind the mask, a habit I had never yet thrown off.  Most men have some mental fad—­this was mine.  Sometimes my articles found an echo in a note written to me by the guests themselves; this would fill me with joy.  Often I was criticised for the absurdity of my views.

On this occasion a great banquet was to be given to Prince Polinski, a nephew of the Czar and possible heir to the throne.  The press had been filled with the detail of his daily life—­of the dinners, teas and functions given by society in his honor; of his reception by the mayor, of his audience at the White House; of the men who guarded his person; of his “opinions,” “impressions” and “views” on this, that and the other thing, but so far no one had dissected the man himself.

What our editor wanted was a minute analysis of the mind of a young Russian studied at close range.  The occasion of the banquet was selected because I could then examine him at my leisure.  The results were to be used by the editor in an article of his own, my memoranda being only so much padding.

When I entered and took up a position near the door where I could look him over, Delmonico’s largest reception-room was crowded with guests:  bankers, railroad presidents, politicians, officers of the army and navy, judges, doctors, and the usual collection of white shirt-fronts that fill the seats at a public dinner of this kind.  The Prince was in the uniform of an officer of the Imperial Navy.  He was heavily built and tall, with a swarthy face enlivened by a pointed mustache.  The Russian Ambassador at his side was in full dress and wore a number of decorations:  these two needed no pointing out.  Some of the others were less distinguishable-among them a heavily-built man in evening-dress, with a full beard and mustache which covered his face almost to his eyes—­ soft and bushy as the hair on a Spitz dog and as black.  With a leather apron and a broad-axe he would have passed at a masquerade for an executioner of the olden time.  Despite this big beard, there was a certain bearing about the man—­a certain elegance both of manner and gesture—­talking with his hands, accentuating his sentences with outstretched fingers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug (I saw all this from across the room where I stood)—­that showed clearly not only his high position, but his breeding.  What position he held under the Prince I was, of course, unaware, but it must have been very close, for the big Russian kept him constantly at the royal side.  I noted, too, that the Prince was careful to introduce him to many who were brought up to shake his hand.