“She told me that if I were half the man that Nick Carter is people would have a lot more respect for me, which I admitted, and that if she loved a man it would make no difference to her whether he was a detective, or what he was, so long as he was a good and honorable man, who did his duty to his neighbor and to himself, and all that. Really, she read me quite a lecture, until I’m blowed if she didn’t get me mad, too.”
“She told you a few facts, I suppose.”
“Facts! Good Heaven! You ought to have heard her. I felt like a kitten in the grasp of a bull terrier before she got through with me.”
“And then——”
“Well, among other things she told me that I belonged to a class that was ruining posterity, whatever that may mean, inasmuch as posterity isn’t here to be ruined; that I had never earned a cent of money in my life, and that all on earth I was good for was to spend the money which my father provided—and a whole lot more of that sort until I left her in a rage. That is all; but you can see that the quarrel was not serious.”
“That was Saturday afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not see her again?”
“No. I came into the city in the evening, and I did not go out home until late. Then, in the morning, Sunday, I slept late, breakfasted alone, and came into town again. She went away Sunday.”
“And you say she left no written message?”