“'Arthur Grayling,' he read, 'thirty-two, prospective husband of S. V. Good character. No fortune, but good salary from employers. Engaged by A. G. to find S. V.'”
Chick laid the second slip aside.
“I have left the remainder of that page blank for you to fill up for me,” said the detective. “Read the next.”
“'George Hatfield, thirty-five, tall, dark, no fortune, no visible means of support; always supplied with money. Ran away to sea when a boy; spent much time in South America; came back to Philadelphia in '84. Presumably a gambler. Man of strong character for good or evil. Would hesitate at nothing determined upon. An athlete, drinks moderately, but never too much. Sometimes seen in questionable company. Spends much time in New York. Frequently disappears for two or three days, and always when in New York. Affects yachting—”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Nick, suddenly interrupting the reading.
“Eh?” said Chick, looking up. “Nothing. Go on.”
“'Owns a sloop yacht called the Mystery. Sometimes sails in her between P. and N. Y.'”
Nick was rubbing his hands together with an air of such intense satisfaction that Chick again paused in his reading and looked up.
“Continue,” was all that the detective said, and the assistant complied:
“'Belongs to several clubs in N. Y. and in P.,' continued Chick. 'Is not popular, though nothing tangible against him. Rarely gambles at the clubs. Never talks about himself. In love with S. V. Proposed to her by letter. Rejected with scorn. Was playing billiards at club when letter reached him. Read it between innings, and continued play unmoved. Have found four specimens of handwriting of G. H. No two alike; fact worth remembering. Never was known to pay for anything by check. Always uses cash. Bills usually new, and evidently fresh from bank.'”