Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 44, No. 5, September 28, 1929

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Barry Sloan Runs Afoul of a Sinister World-Wide Plot and the Most Dangerous Man in New York

The S. S. Leviathan was coming into New York Harbor.

There had been a fog as the mighty ship passed through the Narrows; but as Bedloe’s Island and the huge serene Statue of Liberty slipped up alongside, the curtains of mist rolled away, and the sun came out, flooding the decks warm and bright. Passengers began to line the rails, looking for the first sight of the towering, serrated sky-line of the city.

Barry Sloan, walking on the promenade deck, with his pipe clenched between his teeth, and the cool morning breeze fresh on his face, did not bother to look at that inspiring sight. He had seen it before. Many times before. This made, to be exact, the seventeenth time he had crossed the North Atlantic, and proceeded up the lower harbor, past the Statue, Ellis Island, historic Castle William on Governor’s Island, the Battery, and docked at one pier or another in lower Manhattan.

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