Richard called at Mr. Bike’s office, only to be informed that Mr. Bike was still absent from town. But he knew to the contrary this time; so, obtaining the address, he called at Tolman Bike’s bachelor apartments in Washington Square. Mr. Bike was in town, this servant said, but he did not expect him in until it was time to dress for a 7 o’clock dinner. He did not know where Mr. Bike was to be found, so Richard was forced to rest content with this meagre information until a later hour. Richard first consulted a directory. He found quite a list of Smiths, but no Miss L. W. Smith, and he concluded if nothing more feasible offered he would select the Smiths who lived in the best neighborhoods, and personally visit every family until he found the right one, or knew positively no such Smith lived in New York. He had inserted a personal advertisement in all the morning and evening newspapers asking for information concerning the relatives of Miss L. W. Smith, and he expected by evening to have some definite clue to work on. His disagreement with Penelope, instead of killing all desire to try further to solve the mystery of Central Park, infused him with new life and energy, and he was resolved to solve the mystery, and by doing so, make Penelope regret her unreasonableness. Accompanied by the messenger boy, Richard Treadwell tried his original plan of walking about to meet people in the busy parts of the city. “When you see a man that you think resembles the man who got the dress, I want you to tell me,” he instructed the boy, and so in hopes of knowing at least what the man looked like, Richard spent the day wearily travelling around. “There goes a fellow that looks just like the other duffer,” the boy announced, as he and Dick stood watching the passers-by on Broadway. Richard started to follow the man who, in company with a red-headed florid-faced man that carried about with him one hundred and fifty pounds of superfluous flesh, was going down Broadway. The man pointed out by the boy had a light beard, a high nose and sharp eyes. Richard recognized him as an Albany assemblyman. “That looks totally unlike the man I pictured from your description,” Richard said, crossly, as they followed the two men into the Hoffman House. “Well, his face looks like the other fellow, only the other one had black whiskers, and this here one’s is red.” “Bleached, doubtless,” Dick said ironically. “Well, he looks the same, anyway,” the boy protested, as Dick seated himself in the bar-room and made a pretense of reading a letter. The two men went to the bar and ordered drinks, and as the thinner one (they were neither on the lean order) raised a glass to his mouth, Richard started and looked more closely at him. Surely his face looked familiar then! “I am tired; you can go to your office now and come to me in the morning,” Dick said to the messenger, who gladly started off.