I read the accounts of the first concert in the New York papers, and they all referred to it as being a great success. I am very proud of you, dear.

As yet I have heard nothing at all from the detectives concerning your locket and chain, but I have heard of a new detective, a private man. A fellow in the office was telling me about his good work in many cases; it seems that he is a friend of this fellow’s. The chap is a nice boy and is under me in my work. His name is Billie Clarke, and he lives uptown in New York. He has invited me up to his home to meet his mother and sister, some time next week. I shall go because it is very lonely here in this big city without you, dear. I miss you, little sweetheart, in a hundred different ways.

Mr. Van Zandt telephoned me and said that he had submitted the proof he had concerning you, to his colleague, who would comment upon it a little later, and would submit it to the London solicitors; and just as soon as I hear anything about the result I will write to you.

I asked him if he had been able to do anything in the line of tracing up little Lem’s people, but he said that he couldn’t say much as he had just started, and had found but very few traces. So that is something we will still have to hope for, though I am sure he will do his best to solve that mystery.

I like my new work very much indeed. There is a lot to learn, and I spend all my evenings reading up on matters I am not quite strong in, but, in time, I certainly hope to make good.

And, dearest, I hope to save up all I can, against that day when I will surely be the happiest man on earth. You know what day I mean, dear girl.

Mrs. Quarren has been just great to me, and has done everything she could to make my room seem homelike. The meals here are wonderful, and if I keep on eating as much as I have this last week, I shall be fat when you come back here again.

Now, dear, please, please write to me. You know how very lonely I am, and how anxious I am about you. Write and tell me all the news.

I love you, girl, always.

Your own,
Jim.