She has actually grown old, but was as lively as ever.  She created a great stir in Paris when she was there; but a husband who comes home two o’clock in the morning with bleared eyes and empty pockets, is not conducive to the preservation of a woman’s beauty.  How she manages to retain her spirits I cannot imagine.  You ask me news of cousin Holman.  I meet him occasionally and he looks well, but has grown into the most sombre man you ever saw.  In regard to certain hopes of which you have sometimes made mention, let me assure you they are no longer practicable.  He has done what—­

Here the conversation ceased in the other room, the Countess made a movement of advance and I closed the book with an inward groan over my ill-luck.

“It is very pretty,” said she with a weary air; “but as I remarked before, I am not in the buying mood.  If you will take half you mention, I may consider the subject, but—­”

“Pardon me, Madame,” I interrupted, being in no wise anxious to leave the placque behind me, “I have been considering the matter and I hold to my original price.  Mr. Blake of Second Avenue may give it to me if you do not.”

“Mr. Blake!” She eyed me suspiciously.  “Do you sell to him?”

“I sell to anyone I can,” replied I; “and as he has an artist’s eye for such things—­”

Her brows knitted and she turned away.  “I do not want it;” said she, “sell it to whom you please.”

I took up the placque and left the room.

CHAPTER IX

A FEW GOLDEN HAIRS

When a few days from that I made my appearance before Mr. Gryce, it was to find him looking somewhat sober.  “Those Schoenmakers,” said he, “are making a deal of trouble.  It seems they escaped the fellows up north and are now somewhere in this city, but where—­”

An expressive gesture finished the sentence.

“Is that so?” exclaimed I.  “Then we are sure to nab them.  Given time and a pair of low, restless German thieves, I will wager anything, our hands will be upon them before the month is over.  I only hope, when we do come across them, it will not be to find their betters too much mixed up with their devilish practices.”  And I related to him what Fanny had told me a few evenings before.

“The coil is tightening,” said he.  “What the end will be I don’t know.  Crime, said she?  I wish I knew in what blind hole of the earth that girl we are after lies hidden.”

As if in answer to this wish the door opened and one of our men came in with a letter in his hand.  “Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Gryce, after he had perused it, “look at that.”

I took the letter from his hand and read: 

The dead body of a girl such as you describe was found in the East
river off Fiftieth Street this morning.  From appearance has been
dead some time.  Have telegraphed to Police Headquarters for
orders.  Should you wish to see the body before it is removed to
the Morgue or otherwise disturbed, please hasten to Pier 48 E. R.

                                                                                                              Graham.