"Did he seem surprised to learn that John Dashwood had not come home?" "No. He said that John would probably turn up all right." "And yet he went off to wire Mrs. Dashwood. That shows, does it not, that he must have feared that harm had come to his son-in-law, and that he concealed his feelings in order not to alarm you? That was the act of a considerate man." There was no hint of sarcasm in tone of voice or expression of face. The housekeeper took the remarks as Nick had meant them to be taken. "Yes, that must be it," she said, with a sorrowful shake of the head, "for he knows that I think the world of John Dashwood. A finer man never lived." Nick nodded his head in approval. Then he said: "I want to write a letter, so that when I go back to town it may go out with the next mail. I have used Mr. Leonard's desk before. Will you permit me to use it again?" "Certainly, Mr. Carter. You know the way to his rooms. Go right up and help yourself to whatever you may find there." The detective mounted the stairs to the second story, and entered Gabriel Leonard's den, as he called it, which was one of a suite of three rooms. But he did not go to the writing-desk, but passed on to the bedroom. Everything was in order from bed to closet. The housemaid had been there, and had done her work well. Nick found nothing in the room itself to arouse his interest. But in the large closet he paused several minutes. At Leonard's office in town that day the detective, who never allowed the slightest thing to escape his notice, had observed that, though it was of the same color, cut, and texture, the suit of clothes the manufacturer was wearing was not the same one worn the day before. In the closet the suit of yesterday was found. Nick saw nothing out of the way in the appearance of the coat and vest, but the trousers were stained with clayey mud. In the hip pocket a discolored handkerchief was sticking out. Nick examined it, to find a number of large, dark-red stains. They were not blood-stains, but the stains of some mineral substance. A curious light came into the detective's eyes as he examined them. Replacing the handkerchief in the trousers pocket, he left the closet and went into the den. The writing-desk now engaged his attention. The pigeonholes contained letters and bills. These were examined, to be replaced with a shake of the head. All the drawers except one were unlocked. Nothing in the way of evidence was discovered. With his picklock appliance, he speedily unlocked the last drawer. Large envelopes filled with documents met his eye. As he inspected them one by one, his astonishment became so pronounced that he found it hard to repress an exclamation. In one envelope were two letters. The first read as follows: "SAN FRANCISCO, May 15, 1904.