“Very well. I will answer anything that is not too personal in its character.” “I will try to keep within the line. Where have you recently been residing?” She unhesitatingly gave the address. “How long have you been in this house?” “Nearly two years.” “Where did you live before that?” As in the former instance, she gave the address without hesitation. “Did you have any particular friends in either of these houses?” “I did not. In all my life I never had half a dozen friends.” “Were these mostly ladies?” “Yes.” “But were there not one or two gentlemen?” “Only two whom I could call friends.” “Who were these two?” “One was Mr. Barnes.” “And the other?” “A gentleman by the name of Lorton.” “What was his other name?” “Demas.” “Did you know him well?” “Quite so.” “How frequently did you see him?” “Sometimes every month, but generally not oftener than once in two or three months.” The prompt and apparently truthful way in which the girl was answering puzzled the detective anew. If this was acting, then it was the finest that he had ever seen. And were not the proof so strong the other way, he would have cast all suspicion to the winds, and said: “This girl is what she seems, an honest, upright, high-principled girl! “But the letter? “What could be better than dumb evidence?” The girl must be lying. But as long as she appeared willing to answer it might be as well to go on questioning her, using his judgment to sift out what was truth and what untruth. So he asked: “When did you last see this Mr. Lorton?” “Just a month ago.” “Did he say then when you might expect to see him again?” “Yes.” “Ah! When was it?” “He said he was going away, to be gone a couple of months, and that he would come to see me as soon as he came back.” “Do you know what business this Mr. Lorton was in?” “Not exactly. He told me once that it was traveling, I think in connection with some patent right.” “You said something this morning that induced the belief in my mind that you had been inside of a courtroom. Am I right?” “You are.” “What business could you have had to take you into a court of law?” “There was a poor woman living in the house where I one time had a room, whose husband took part in a street fight. He was passing when a couple of men began to fight. He tried to separate them, and they set upon him for interfering, and then while he was defending himself a policeman came up, and arresting him, took him to the station house. The poor woman heard of it and was beside herself with grief, and as she was on a sick bed at the time, I lost a day to go to the court and try to get his freedom. And, sir, it made my blood boil, the way the judge mocked and laughed and jeered the poor wretches who were brought before him.” As she said this her checks glowed with natural indignation. Nick Carter could not say it was affected!