ere you will
begin your hunt?" he asked, one of his old search-light glances flashing
from beneath his brows.

"Nowhere in particular. On the East Side, perhaps, where I have means
of knowing what strangers come and go. Then among my own people here. I
shall know within twenty-four hours whether she has been in the habit of
attending evening service--that is, within the last six months. A woman
of the poorer class would be difficult to locate, but there should not
be the slightest trouble in picking out one who, less than a year ago,
occupied your wife's social position--no matter how badly she were
dressed."

Felix stood musing. He had reached the limit of the help he had come
for.

"And what can I do to assist?"

"Nothing. Go home, and when I need you I will send word. Good night."

Chapter XIII

Had Felix continued his visits to Stephen Carlin's shop, he might have
escaped many sleepless hours and saved himself many weary steps.

Fate had doubtless dealt him one of those unlucky cards which we so
often find in our hands when the game of life is being played. If, for
instance, the book to the right, holding the lost will, had been opened
instead of the book to the left; or if we had caught the wrecked train
by a minute or less; or had our penny come up heads instead of coming
up tails: how many of the ills of life would have been avoided? And so
I say that had Felix continued his visits to Stephen as he should have
done, he would, one December afternoon, have found the ship-chandler
standing in the door, spectacles on his nose, checking off a wagon-load
of manila rope which had just been discharged on his pavement, stopping
only to nod to the postman who had brought him a letter. The delay in
breaking the seal was due entirely to the fact that a coil of light
cordage, used aboard the yachts he was accustomed to fit out, had just
been reported as missing, and so the unopened letter was tossed on top
a barrel of sperm-oil to await his convenience. But it was when Stephen
caught sight of the small cramped writing scrawled over the cheap yellow
envelope, the stamp askew, his own name and address crowded in the lower
left-hand corner, that the supreme moment really arrived, for at that
instant--had Felix been there--he would have seen Carlin slit the
covering with his thumb-nail, lay aside his invoice, and drop on the
first seat within reach, to steady himself.

Indeed, had Felix on this same December a