"Do you know what business this Styles had with Mr. Langmore?"
"I don't remember very well—but hold up, yes, I do. He owed Mr. Langmore some money. The two put through some sort of real estate deal."
"How much did Styles owe Mr. Langmore?"
"I don't know exactly, but it was a large amount, fifteen or twenty thousand dollars."
"What sort of a man would you take this Styles to he?"
"Oh, he is a big, overbearing Englishman, one of the kind with mutton-chop whiskers and a red nose. He is a great chap for fast horses, and I've heard he has quite a stable of them over to his place. He is also a dog fancier."
"Has he been here lately?"
"I don't know. Perhaps Margaret could tell you. But what has this to do—"
"Nothing at all, perhaps. In the safe with the bankbills were some mortgage papers given to Mr. Langmore by this Matlock Styles. But the two may not have the least connection with each other."
The two had been walking away from the house and now the detective turned back. As he did so he thought of the bit of paper he had picked up in the shrubbery. He struck a match with one hand and held up the slip with the other. It was a memorandum, running as follows: