of which human nature is capable.  It is true, their duty is hard and unyielding, its imperative requirements must be rigidly observed; but many a criminal to-day has urgent reasons to be thankful to the man who was instrumental in bringing him to account for the crimes he had committed.  Many a convict’s wife and children are the recipients of kindly actions from the very men whose duty it was to deprive them, by a legal process, of a husband and father.  This may seem strange and incredible, but from my own experience I can testify to its absolute truthfulness.  With the capture of the criminal the detective’s duty ceases, and all the sympathetic promptings of his nature have full play.  He has performed his duty to the state, to the law and to society, and that done, his knowledge of the sufferings which crime have caused leads him to acts of kindness and of practical assistance.  To-day, I have some of the warmest and most grateful friends among the families of the men whom I was compelled to bring to justice, and in many cases the criminals themselves have acknowledged my actions, and have been better men in consequence.  But this is a digression, and we will return to our narrative.

Rising to his feet, the detective politely acknowledged the salutation of Mrs. Edwards, and in as few words as possible he stated his errand.  With painful embarrassment of manner, Mrs. Edwards informed him that she could not tell him anything about her husband’s movements, as, contrary to his usual custom, he had not informed her of the route he intended to take when he left home.  Not a word or a hint was given of the trouble that was preying upon her heart, of the harsh, unfeeling treatment to which she had been subjected, or of the brutal order, expulsion and separation.  The dignity of the noble little woman sustained her grandly, and no confession of her wrongs escaped her lips.  She then informed the detective that she expected to hear from him every day, and that she believed he was now traveling through Wisconsin.

That she was entirely unaware, at present at least, of her husband’s whereabouts, the operative was firmly convinced; and she appeared to be equally uninformed of the suspicions that were entertained regarding him.

After a few moments spent in friendly converse, the detective arose to take his leave; and after being invited to renew his visit, he departed from the house.

“By George!” murmured Everman to himself, as he made his way back to the hotel; “that little woman is a wife to be proud of.  That she knows nothing at present I am fully convinced, but I am also certain that if she learns of the crime her husband has committed, she would sacrifice her life rather than aid us in his discovery.  What a strange, unequal world this is!—­bad men linked with angelic wives; and vicious and unprincipled women yoked with men who are the very soul of honor.  Well, well, I cannot set things right.  I have only my duty to perform, and moralizing is very unprofitable.”