"The second is self-evident. How did the writer of the note know of Rogers's infirmity?" "His infirmity?" "Certainly--his color-blindness. I confess, I'm puzzled. How _could_ anyone else know it when Rogers himself didn't know it? That's what I should like to have explained. Perhaps there's only one man or woman in the world who could know--well, that's the one who wrote the note. Now, who is it?" "But," I began, quickly, then stopped; should I set him right? Or was this a trap he had prepared for me? His eyes were not on the cloth now, but on me. There was a light in them I did not quite understand. I felt that I must be sure of my ground before I went forward. "It should be very easy to trace the writer of the note," I said. "The police have not found it so." "No?" "No. It was given to the door-keeper by a boy--just an ordinary boy of from twelve to fourteen years--the man didn't notice him especially. He said there was no answer and went away. How are the police to find that boy? Suppose they do find him? Probably all he could tell them would be that a man stopped him at the corner and gave him a quarter to take the note to the coroner's office." "He might give a description of the man," I ventured. "What would a boy's description be worth? It would be, at the best, vague and indefinite. Besides, they've not even found the boy. Now, to return to the note." We had come to the coffee and cigars, and I felt it time to protest. "Before we return to the note, Mr. Godfrey," I said, "I'd like to ask you two direct questions. What interest have you in the matter?" "The interest of every investigator of crime," he answered, smiling. "You belong to the detective force, then?" "I have belonged to it. At present, I'm in other employ." "And what was your object in bringing me here this evening?" "One portion of my object has been accomplished. The other was to ask you to write out for me a copy of the note." "But who was it pursued us up Broadway?" "Oh, I have rivals!" he chuckled. "I flatter myself that was rather neatly done. Will you give me a copy of the note, Mr. Lester?" "No," I answered squarely. "You'll have to go to the police for that. I'm out of the case." He bowed across the table to me with a little laugh. As I looked at him, his imperturbable good humor touched me. "I'll tell you one thing, though," I added. "The writer of the note knew nothing of Rogers's color-blindness--you're off the scent there." "I am?" he asked amazedly. "Then how did _you_ know it, Mr. Lester?" "I suppose you detectives would call it deduction--I deduced it." He took a contemplative puff or two, as he looked at me. "Well," he exclaimed, at last, "I must say that beats me! Deduced it! That was mighty clever." Again I bowed my acknowledgments. "And that's all you can tell me?" he added. "I'm afraid that's all."