On the other hand, Stanhope had described at length the events of the masquerade, as they related to himself, but had said little concerning Leslie and the nature of the service she required of him, referring to her only as Mr. Follingsbee's client. He had related his misadventures with the Troubadour and the Chinaman, leaving upon their shoulders the entire blame of his failure and non-appearance at the Raid. And he had never once mentioned Vernet's presence, nor the part the latter had played to gain the precedence with his Chief. In thus omitting important facts, each had his motive; and the omissions had not, at the time, been noted by the Chief. Now, however, as he read and re-read his memoranda--recalling to mind how he had shared with Vernet his chagrin at the failure of the Raid, and laughed with Stanhope over his comical mishaps--he seemed to read something between the lines, and his face grew more and more perplexed as he closed the diary, and sat intently thinking. "There's a mystery here that courts investigation," he muttered, as he arose at last and put away the diary. "I'd give something, now, for twenty minutes' talk with Dick Stanhope." Early on the following morning, Sanford presented himself before his Chief, the bundle of letters in his hand, and a troubled look upon his face. "Well, Sanford, is it done?" "I wish," said Sanford, as he placed the packet upon the table, "I wish it had never been begun--at least by me." "Why?" "Because I don't want to believe the evidence of my senses." "There's a sentiment for a detective! Out with it man; what have you found?" Sanford took two papers from his pocket and held them in his hand irresolutely. "I hope I am wrong," he said; "if I am--" "If you are, it will rest between us two. Out with it, now." "There's only one man among us that I can trace this letter to," beginning to unfold the troublesome scrawl, "and he--" He opened the second paper and laid it before his Chief. The latter dropped his eyes to the vexatious paper and said, mechanically: "Vernet!" "I'm sorry," began Sanford, regretfully. "I tried--" "You need not be," interrupted the Chief. "It's Carnegie's verdict too." Sanford sat down in the nearest seat, and looked earnestly at his Chief, saying nothing. After a moment of silence, the latter said: "Sanford, I want Vernet shadowed." Sanford started and looked as if he doubted his own ears. "I don't want him interfered with," went on the Chief slowly, "and watching him will be a delicate job; but I wish it done. I want to be informed of every move he makes. You must manage this business. I shall depend upon you." CHAPTER LIII. JOHN AINSWORTH'S STORY. The Chief of the detectives was now furnished with ample food for thought, but the opportunity for meditation seemed remote.