reet to get to that side."

"Yes, sir; she did. I noticed pertic'lar, for I thought it funny she
shouldn't 've let me drive her on down th' street to wherever she was
goin'. It's a dirty place along there, sir."

"Yes, I know. When you drove her out on the 28th--the day she brought
back the maid--where did she go?"

"To Washington Square again, sir."

"And left you waiting for her?"

"Yes, sir; just th' same."

"And went down the same street?"

"Yes, sir; crossed to th' east side just th' same as th' time before."

"How long was she gone?"

"Over an hour, sir; an hour an' a half, I should say."

"Did you notice anything unusual in her appearance when she came
back?"

"No, sir; she was wearin' a heavy veil. She had th' other woman with
her, an' she just said 'Home!' in a kind o' hoarse voice, as I helped
them into th' carriage."

That was all that he could tell me, and yet I felt that it would help
me greatly. In the first place, it narrowed my investigations to the
district lying to the east of West Broadway, and I knew that the
French quarter extended only a block or two in that direction. And
again, it gave me a point to insist on in my inquiries--I knew the
date upon which the mysterious woman had left her lodging. Or, at
least, I knew that it must be one of two dates. The lodging had been
vacated, then, either on the twenty-eighth of March or the third of
April. As a last resource, I had the photograph. I was ready to begin
my search, and dismissed Brooks, warning him to say nothing to anyone
about the mystery.

As I passed out the door to the pavement, I happened to glance across
the way, and there, in the crowd of brokers which always lines the
street, I perceived Martigny. He was listening intently to one of the
brokers, who was talking earnestly in his ear--telling him how to make
his fortune, I suppose--and did not see me. For an instant, I was
tempted to cross to him, and get him out of danger. Then I smiled at
the absurdity of the thought. It would take a clever man to fleece
Martigny, and I recalled his strong face, his masterful air--he was no
fool, no lamb ready for the shears. He was perfectly able to look out
for himself--to wield the shears with power and effect, if need be.

I turned west toward Broadway, still, I suppose, thinking of him
subconsciously: for a few moments later, some irresistible impulse
caused me to glance around. And there he was, walking after me, on the
opposite