ces. Stay, I've a notion he may be heard of at some of these oyster
cellars hereabouts.'

I went down into one of them, and asked if a tall young man with light
hair had been there that evening. A tall young man with light hair and
mustache had come in from the theatre with a lady, and had just left. I
asked my informant if he knew the lady. She was a Miss Kearney, he
answered.

'What?' I continued, 'didn't her sister marry the actor Levison?'

'Yes, the same person.'

'He lives in Walker street, near the Bowery, I believe?'

'Yes, I think so,' replied the man.

I considered a moment. Of course no one could tell me where Edgar had
gone to; but I was tolerably certain he had gone home with the girl.
Where she lived I did not know, but I thought it probable the actor
could tell me. So we started on to Walker street. There are--or were at
the time I speak of--several boarding houses in Walker street. We passed
one or two three-story houses with marble steps. 'Shall I ask along
here?' said Clarke. 'No,' I answered; 'poor actors don't board there; we
must look for him farther on.' We kept on, and after a little while, we
found one that seemed to me to be likely to be the house we were looking
for. I rang the bell and inquired for Mr. Levison. He was gone to bed.
It was now twelve o'clock. I desired the man that opened the door to
tell him that some one was below who wished to see him immediately. He
soon returned, saying that Mr. Levison was in bed, and could not be
disturbed: I must leave my business, or call again next day.

I thought it necessary to frighten him a little; so I sent up word that
I was an officer of police, and he must come down instantly, or I should
go up and fetch him. In a few moments the actor made his appearance,
terribly frightened. Before I could say anything he began to pour out
such a flood of questions and asseverations that I could not get a word
in: What did I want with him? I had come to the wrong man; he hadn't
been doing anything, etc., etc. 'I don't want you,' I began--but it was
of no use, I could not stop him; his character was excellent, anybody
would vouch for him; I ought to be more sure what I was about before I
roused people from their beds at midnight, etc., etc. His huddled words
and apprehensive looks made me suspect there was something wrong with
him; but it was no concern of mine then. I seized him by the shoulder,
and ordered him to be quiet.

'Don't utter another word