First of all he must secure a scrap of Mrs. Leslie’s handwriting and compare it with that which he held in his hand.
That could be done in the morning he had no doubt—it would not prove a formidable task to one of his executive ability.
There was an ugly look about the business he did not like, and he was anxious to be at the truth.
About eight o’clock, having had his supper, and made certain inquiries that put him into possession of facts he desired to know, Darrell found himself watching for Paul Prescott at the lodgings of the artist.
It was the desire of the detective to acquaint himself with some of the customs of the man whom he meant to investigate.
This was always his plan when engaged in such a business—he found it paid to size a man up and see what his habits were.
When a man was suspected of being a forger, or a check raiser, or a defaulter, Darrell’s very first action was to discover who his usual companions were, where he passed his leisure time, and whether he was addicted to little vices. His secret character always told the story.
A young man might be a Sunday-school teacher, and apparently as straight as a die to all outward appearances, but if Darrell on tracking him found that he secretly frequented gambling houses he knew he had his man.
What does it avail if the outside of the peach is fair to gaze upon when all is rotten below?
So he now desired to learn what this peculiar looking artist really was.