A flush, deep as it was sudden, swept over Mr. Blake’s usually unmoved cheek.  “You are transgressing sir,” said he and stopped.  Though a man of intense personal pride, he had but little of that quality called temper, or perhaps if he had, thought it unwise to display it on this occasion.  “I saw and spoke to a girl on the corner of that street some days ago,” he went on more mildly, “but that she was the one who lived here, I neither knew at the time nor feel willing to believe now without positive proof.”  Then in a deep ringing tone the stateliness of which it would be impossible to describe, he inquired, “Have the city authorities presumed to put a spy on my movements, that the fact of my speaking to a poor forsaken creature on the corner of the street should be not only noted but remembered?”

“Mr. Blake,” observed Mr. Gryce, and I declare I was proud of my superior at that moment, “no man who is a true citizen and a Christian should object to have his steps followed, when by his own thoughtlessness, perhaps, he has incurred a suspicion which demands it.”

“And do you mean to say that I have been followed,” inquired he, clenching his hand and looking steadily, but with a blanching cheek, first at Mr. Gryce then at me.

“It was indispensable,” quoth that functionary gently.

The outraged gentleman riveted his gaze upon me.  “In town and out of town?” demanded he.

I let Mr. Gryce reply.  “It is known that you have lately sought to visit the Schoenmakers,” said he.

Mr. Blake drew a deep breath, cast his eyes about the handsome apartment in which we were, let them rest for a moment upon a portrait that graced one side of the wall, and which was I have since learned a picture of his father, and slowly drew forward a chair.  “Let me hear what your suspicions are,” said he.

I noticed Mr. Gryce colored at this; he had evidently been met in a different way from what he expected.  “Excuse me,” said he, “I do not say I have any suspicions; my errand is simply to notify you of the death of the girl you were seen to speak with, and to ask whether or not you can give us any information that can aid us in the matter before the coroner.”

“You know I have not.  If I have been as closely followed as you say, you must know why I spoke to that girl and others, why I went to the house of the Schoenmakers and—­Do you know?” he suddenly inquired.

Mr. Gryce was not the man to answer such a question as that.  He eyed the rich signet ring that adorned the hand of the gentleman before him and suavely smiled.  “I am ready to listen to any explanations,” said he.

Mr. Blake’s haughty countenance became almost stern.  “You consider you have a right to demand them; let me hear why.”