'Why, certainly. He has now gone to Europe, but when he is at home there is scarcely a day that Mr. Griswold is not here.'
'Dines here by himself?'
'Dines and breakfasts here by himself, and with madame, and with his friends. There are few of our customers whose bills are so long as Mr. Griswold's, fewer still, alas, who are so prompt in paying them.'
'Exactly. Now,' continued Mr. Duval, 'I know the excellent rule of this house, that no one, however well known to the proprietor, is permitted to be served with a meal in a private room alone with a lady, even though there is no possible doubt that that lady is his wife; but I know also that, of course, there are various jolly supper-parties given up-stairs, at which all sorts of people are present. Was Mr. Griswold a frequent attendant of any of these?'
'Never,' said M. Adolphe energetically, 'I am perfectly prepared to say never. The people with whom Mr. Griswold consorted, male and female, were always les gens comme faut.'
'So I should have thought,' said Mr. Duval cheerfully. 'Thank you very much, Adolphe; in such matters, yours is an opinion to be relied upon. If ever, when you are off duty of an evening, you would like to come into the Varieties, send round to the Fifth-avenue Hotel, and I will give you my card. We are doing great business, but can always find room for friends.' And Mr. Duval paid his bill, and with a pleasant nod, strolled leisurely into the street.
'So far so good,' said he to himself, when he got outside. 'Now, to make myself quite certain, I will put the question to my old friend, O'Meara, and if he endorses Adolphe's opinion, I shall have no doubt about it that Thornton Carey is right; that this has been some business jealousy, and that there is no woman in the case.'
Judge O'Meara was the presiding justice, or what would be called in England the police magistrate, at the Tombs. Looking at him, there was little reason to ask from what country he originally sprang; his clear blue eyes, short, turn-up nose, and full, red lips proclaimed him a genuine son of Erin. His face was clean shaved, with the exception of a moustache, which, with his reddish-brown hair, was close cropped. His style of administering justice was peculiar, rough and ready, but admitted to be well suited to those with whom he had to do.
As Bryan entered the court, by a door behind the bench, a wretched-looking object had just been hauled before the judge by a stalwart Irish policeman.
'What's this?' cried Judge O'Meara.