"Yesterday."
"Through the mail?"
"Yes, Marse."
A frown darkened the brow of the detective. He crumpled the letter in his hand and began pacing the floor with nervous strides.
"Somefin must be wrong ef yo' didn' write that letter."
Suddenly Dyke Darrel turned on the speaker and touched her huge arm with a clinging hand.
"Jule, when did my sister answer this letter?" he demanded, fiercely.
"Jest the next train."
"Last night?"
"Yes, Marse Dyke."