e an official fact.

Little escapes his eye, but he is a man who makes sure. Every morning a
bundle of newspapers and periodicals is delivered at Scotland Yard to be
carefully scrutinised and to have every reference to the force marked
with blue pencil. Where there is an accusation against a particular man,
or a criticism of methods in general, special attention is directed to
it. But there is rarely any need for this. The Commissioner has probably
read it at breakfast. The point, whatever it is, is usually in a fair
way to being dealt with before lunch.

From the moment a constable has been sworn in he is watched and selected
for the post that best suits him. A man may do well in a semi-rural
district who would be a failure in Commercial Road, E. He may be
selected for office work, regulation of traffic, for the Criminal
Investigation Department, for the Thames Division, or for routine duty
in the street. Wherever he is he is the best man who can be found for
the work, and so from top to bottom of the ladder of promotion.

Many romances have been written of Scotland Yard, but imagination has
supplied the place of facts, for the tongues of those who have taken
part in dramatic episodes, more stirring than any in fiction, are
locked.

Yet, in spite of all its cold, business-like atmosphere, the story of
the Metropolitan Police is in itself a vivid romance which only a
Kipling could write as it should be written. Imagine the Commissioner,
whose power is almost autocratic, weaving a net that is spread broadcast
to catch within its meshes any person who breaks the King's peace or the
King's laws.

And, although now and again the personal factor is discernible in some
piece of work, it is mainly cold, precise, business-like organisation
which holds the net so close. Telephones, telegraphs, and motor cars
link the police stations of London closely--so closely that within less
than half an hour 20,000 men can be informed of the particulars of a
crime.

As an instance of organisation, it may be interesting to recall that
during the Coronation procession, when close on 600 detectives were on
duty mingling with the crowds, it was possible for Mr. Frank Froest, the
then Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department, in his
office, to get a message to or from any one of them within ten minutes.
A large proportion of the whole body could have been concentrated on one
spot within twenty minutes.

It is organisation