Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 18, No. 3, September 18, 1926

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“It’s only the dangerous criminal who is interesting,” I said, and ruggles did not deny it

From our excellent breakfast at an adjacent café, Ruggles and I had just returned to our snug little apartment on West Eighty-Sixth Street; and, having got my pipe going well, I forgot for the moment the hazards of our profession and could view life from the standpoint of a reflective bystander.

“It’s only the dangerous criminal who is interesting,” I said. “The others are as harmless as toads.”

“As I’ve told you before,” said Ruggles, “all reptiles are dangerous, in their way. Frogs, toads, and lizards are poisonous. And don’t make the mistake of thinking them stupid! Remember, their secretions often are agreeable in odor and, therefore, disarming: the common toad produces a poison that has the fragrance of vanilla.”

“That sounds clever of the toad,” I said with a smile. “ ‘Magic in Animals: a Popular and Recent Discovery,’ you might call it.”

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