people there that he was too shaken up by his misstep to do his duty, and that he would be with them next morning.  This seemed strange to Leonard, but he had no reasons for disobeying his master’s orders, and so rode to Poughkeepsie.  But the doctor did not follow him the next day; on the contrary he telegraphed for him to return, and when he got back dismissed him with a month’s wages.  This ended Leonard’s connection with the Zabriskie family.

A simple story bearing out what the wife has already told us; but it furnishes a link which may prove invaluable.  Mr. Stanton, whose first name is Theodore, knows the real reason why Dr. Zabriskie returned home on the night of the seventeenth of July, 19—.  Mr. Stanton, consequently, is the man to see, and this shall be my business tomorrow.

Checkmate!  Theodore Stanton is not in this country.  Though this points him out as the man from whom Dr. Zabriskie bought the pistol, it does not facilitate my work, which is becoming more and more difficult.

Mr. Stanton’s whereabouts are not even known to his most intimate friends.  He sailed from this country most unexpectedly on the eighteenth of July a year ago, which was the day after the murder of Mr. Hasbrouck.  It looks like a flight, especially as he has failed to maintain open communication even with his relatives.  Was he the man who shot Mr. Hasbrouck?  No; but he was the man who put the pistol in Dr. Zabriskie’s hand that night, and whether he did this with purpose or not, was evidently so alarmed at the catastrophe which followed that he took the first outgoing steamer to Europe.  So far, all is clear, but there are mysteries yet to be solved, which will require my utmost tact.  What if I should seek out the gentleman with whose name that of Mrs. Zabriskie has been linked, and see if I can in any way connect him with Mr. Stanton or the events of that night.

Eureka!  I have discovered that Mr. Stanton cherished a mortal hatred for the gentleman above mentioned.  It was a covert feeling, but no less deadly on that account; and while it never led him into any extravagances, it was of force sufficient to account for many a secret misfortune occurring to that gentleman.  Now if I can prove that he is the Mephistopheles who whispered insinuations into the ear of our blind Faust, I may strike a fact that will lead me out of this maze.

But how can I approach secrets so delicate without compromising the woman I feel bound to respect if only for the devoted love she manifests for her unhappy husband!

I shall have to appeal to Joe Smithers.  This is something which I always hate to do, but as long as he will take money, and as long as he is fertile in resources for obtaining the truth from people I am myself unable to reach, I must make use of his cupidity and his genius.  He is an honourable fellow in one way, and never retails as gossip what he acquires for our use.  How will he proceed in this case, and by what tactics will he gain the very delicate information which we need?  I own that I am curious to see.