"Certainly, Mr. Carter. You know the way to his rooms. Go right up and help yourself to whatever you may find there."
The detective mounted the stairs to the second story, and entered Gabriel Leonard's den, as he called it, which was one of a suite of three rooms. But he did not go to the writing-desk, but passed on to the bedroom.
Everything was in order from bed to closet. The housemaid had been there, and had done her work well. Nick found nothing in the room itself to arouse his interest. But in the large closet he paused several minutes. At Leonard's office in town that day the detective, who never allowed the slightest thing to escape his notice, had observed that, though it was of the same color, cut, and texture, the suit of clothes the manufacturer was wearing was not the same one worn the day before. In the closet the suit of yesterday was found. Nick saw nothing out of the way in the appearance of the coat and vest, but the trousers were stained with clayey mud. In the hip pocket a discolored handkerchief was sticking out. Nick examined it, to find a number of large, dark-red stains.
They were not blood-stains, but the stains of some mineral substance. A curious light came into the detective's eyes as he examined them. Replacing the handkerchief in the trousers pocket, he left the closet and went into the den. The writing-desk now engaged his attention. The pigeonholes contained letters and bills. These were examined, to be replaced with a shake of the head. All the drawers except one were unlocked. Nothing in the way of evidence was discovered. With his picklock appliance, he speedily unlocked the last drawer. Large envelopes filled with documents met his eye. As he inspected them one by one, his astonishment became so pronounced that he found it hard to repress an exclamation. In one envelope were two letters. The first read as follows:
"San Francisco, May 15, 1904.
"Gabriel Leonard: My last letter, written over six months ago, remains unanswered. Does that mean that you defy me? I should be sorry to believe that you decline to recognize my claim. Perhaps you are not fully aware of the nature of the proofs which are in my hands. Let me inform you that in the case I have against you there is nothing lacking. I have not only photographs, original documents, and court transcripts, but a number of letters which you wrote before you had in contemplation the offense which you afterward committed. I write thus guardedly of my proofs in order that the truth may not be guessed at by any third party into whose hands this letter might chance to fall. This is my last appeal to you. If, on receipt of this, you do not at once notify me by telegraph or letter that you are willing to treat with me on a cash basis, I shall come to St. Louis and either invoke the aid of the law there or—but I will not threaten. You know how you stand, and what you deserve. If I were in your position, I would give every dollar I possessed in the world rather than let the public know what manner of man I am. You have deceived the good people of St. Louis for many years. If you hope to deceive them to the end, come to my terms. Otherwise, a grand smash, the State's prison, infamy, and a dishonored grave.
"Cora Reesey."
"That must have stirred Leonard up a little," said Nick to himself. "Yes, it did, for here is a copy of the answer he wrote:
"St. Louis, May, 20, 1904.
"Cora Reesey.
"Madame: You seem determined to crush me. You are not willing to wait for my death—which cannot be far away, for I have had serious heart trouble lately, and the doctors give me no encouragement—but wish to strike the blow at once. But for my daughter, I should say, strike and be hanged to you. But her interest must be considered, and, therefore, I say, come to St. Louis and I'll try to make a satisfactory settlement with you. I am certain that a personal conference will be better than a discussion of the matter by letters. I dare not say with a pen what I would say to you orally. If you conclude to come, advise me in advance, so I may meet you on the arrival of the train. Yours,
"G. Leonard."
In another envelope was a statement showing that Leonard had some weeks before pledged all his stock in the manufacturing company.
The last envelope contained fifty one-hundred-dollar notes on St. Louis, Chicago, and Kansis City banks.