ing, strange as the fact appeared not
only to himself but to the few friends acquainted with his secret. In
the first place, he possessed much acuteness without betraying it. Of an
easy bearing and a polished address, he was a man to please all and
alarm none, yet he always knew what he was about and what you were
about, too, unless indeed you possessed a power of dissimulation much
beyond ordinary, when the chances were that his gentlemanly instincts
would get in his way, making it impossible for him to believe in a guilt
that was too hardy to betray itself, and too insensible to shame to
blush before the touch of the inquisitor.

In the second place, he liked the business. Yes, notwithstanding the
theories of that social code to which he once paid deference,
notwithstanding the frankness and candor of his own disposition, he
found in this pursuit a nice adjustment of cause to effect and effect
to cause that at once pleased and satisfied his naturally mathematical
mind.

He did not acknowledge the fact, not even to himself. On the contrary,
he was always threatening that in another month he should look up some
new means of livelihood, but the coming month would invariably bring a
fresh case before his notice, and then it would be: "Well, after this
matter is probed to the bottom," or, "When that criminal is made to
confess his guilt," till even his little sisters caught the infection,
and would whisper over their dolls:

"Brother Horace is going to be a great man when all the bad and naughty
people in the world are put in prison."

As a rule, Mr. Byrd was not sent out of town. But, on the occasion of
Mr. Ferris desiring a man of singular discretion to assist him in
certain inquiries connected with the case then on trial in Sibley, there
happened to be a deficiency of capable men in the bureau, and the
superintendent was obliged to respond to the call by sending Mr. Byrd.
He did not do it, however, without making the proviso that all public
recognition of this officer, in his real capacity, was to be avoided.
And so far the wishes of his superiors had been respected. No one
outside of the few persons mentioned in the first chapter of this story
suspected that the easy, affable, and somewhat distinguished-looking
young gentleman who honored the village hotel with his patronage was a
secret emissary of the New York police.

Mr. Byrd was, of all men, then, the very one to feel the utmost
attraction toward, and at the