He had no doubt had many letters from her during their courtship days, and knew the style of the chirography well. One thing favored Darrell. Any one who has endeavored to write with gloves on will bear witness to the fact that as a general rule they could not swear to their own hand when cold. So the chances were about ten to one that Joe could not recognize the hand. The detective was ready to accept the chances. He maintained his cool demeanor through the emergency. That was the result of education in his business. Raising his eyebrows with an expression of surprise, he said: “You don’t mean to say that house is yours, friend Joe?” “That’s just what I do!” The detective was looking for signs of suspicion about the other. Surprise and curiosity he plainly saw, but it was not so easy to discover the other. “Come, now, what have you been looking up my house for?” “On my honor, Joe, I’ve never set eyes on the building and don’t know whether it’s stone or brick, three story or two.” “Then what in the deuce—?” “Patience! Is your house in the market?” “Yes.” “Then perhaps it is one of a number given me by a real estate agent to look up for a friend of mine. I’ll preserve the slip,” taking it from Joe and folding it up. “It looks like a woman’s writing.” “Yes, all writing does after a man has fallen into the habit of looking for letters day by day—letters that are delayed—Come, you married men are very suspicious.” With that he dexterously whipped the subject around and began talking about something of decided interest, so that Joe, completely hoodwinked, speedily forgot about the singular little coincidence that had brought this address under the eyes of the owner of the house. He was not quite done with Joe yet. “You must own a good deal of property in and around the city, Joe?” “I do—property left to me by my mother.” “You have no need to work.” “Well, perhaps not. Some day when I take the notion I mean to figure up my income from this property, and if it’s a good sum, by Jove! I’ll fling business to the winds and take my little wife to Europe for a year—that is, if—” Darrell did not let him finish. “Why, man alive, you talk as though you didn’t hardly know what property you owned, yourself.” “Neither do I—it’s all come to me since I married, and I’ve been so much taken up with my wife that I haven’t found time to attend to it as I should.” Darrell winked hard. He knew certain facts that would seem to indicate that Joe found time to spend an hour every afternoon with some one besides Lillian. If so then this was rank perjury. What was he to think of a hypocrite? “Jove! that’s a queer case. I don’t suppose your wife has any idea of where your property lies—never saw such places as this Twenty-seventh Street house, for instance?” “Heavens! no. That house is an eyesore to me. The neighborhood is not a good one and I will only let it to decent tenants. No, Lillian will never know I own a house there.”