The Duchess of Wiltshire's Diamonds

To the reflective mind the rapidity with which the inhabitants of the
world's greatest city seize upon a new name or idea and familiarize
themselves with it, can scarcely prove otherwise than astonishing. As an
illustration of my meaning let me take the case of Klimo--the now famous
private detective, who has won for himself the right to be considered as
great as Lecocq, or even the late lamented Sherlock Holmes.

Up to a certain morning London had never even heard his name, nor had it
the remotest notion as to who or what he might be. It was as sublimely
ignorant and careless on the subject as the inhabitants of Kamtchaika or
Peru. Within twenty-four hours, however, the whole aspect of the case was
changed. The man, woman, or child who had not seen his posters, or heard
his name, was counted an ignoramus unworthy of intercourse with human
beings.

Princes became familiar with it as their trains tore them to Windsor to
luncheon with the Queen; the nobility noticed and commented upon it as
they drove about the town: merchants, and business men generally, read it
as they made their ways by omnibus 01--Underground, to their various
shops and counting-houses; street boys called each other by it as a
nickname; Music Hall Artistes introduced it into their patter, while it
was even rumored that the Stock Exchange itself had paused in the full
flood tide of business to manufacture a riddle on the subject.