Eric had also discovered the name and address of the other veiled lady—the widow had given it upon his assurance of good faith. It was Mrs. Collingwood. Her address was Lexington Avenue. Darrell’s actions were right to the point in a business light. His main desire was to save the poor husband all the shame and mortification possible. Leaving the hack at the curb he was presently in the presence of the gentleman, to whom he broke the awful news as gently as possible. At first the other was dreadfully shocked, but upon learning what bold measures the detective had taken to conceal the actual facts, he overwhelmed the other with thanks. Between them they got the body into the house, Darrell speaking to the supposed sick lady in a reassuring way. The driver was heavily feed and cautioned to hold his tongue under any and all circumstances. Darrell assisted the stricken husband to get his dead up into her room. Then in the library he heard the full particulars from the detective. Afterwards, he insisted on telling his story—how his once lovely and affectionate wife had secretly taken to the deadly drug from injections given to make her sleep during a spell of sickness. The harrowing tale has been often repeated in such a city as New York—her power of resistance became less and less strong, until he could do nothing with her. Knowing that she had heart trouble he had been expecting such a catastrophe, but nevertheless, it had fallen with crushing force. He was greatly indebted to the detective for his assistance—it was possible that the real facts might be covered up, and with the help of his family physician the death be given as simply one from heart disease. When Eric felt the gentleman’s grasp at parting, and saw the tears upon his sad face, he knew that his visit to the opium joint had not been without its reward, since he was enabled to bring deep satisfaction to this soul long harrowed by the fear of such a catastrophe. Meanwhile, he had the address of the veiled woman with whom the artist had been in communication at the opium joint. At his leisure on the morrow he could look her up and learn all there was connected with his case. Such a scene as the one thus briefly described has occurred at an opium den in the great metropolis—who the ill-fated lady was no one knew, at least the facts were never made public, and only a few guessed the truth by watching the death column in the dailies. The opium habit gains strength slowly in our midst, but there are more people slaves to the vice than the public suspects. Knowing the joint would in all probability be closed for the remainder of the night, Eric made no attempt to go there but sought his apartments to rest. The committee appointed to examine into the strange case of Leslie vs. Leslie could report progress. On the morrow the work would be resumed, and a long stride taken toward the end.