'I don't know.'
'Does he sleep here?'
'Sometimes he does, and sometimes he doesn't.'
'Where is he likely to be found? I should like to see him.'
She said she really didn't know, unless perhaps he might be at a billiard saloon not far off. I went there. A noisy crowd was around the bar. I looked around the room and closely scrutinized every face. No tall, light-haired young man was there. I asked the barkeeper if Mr. Edgar had been there that evening. He said no, he had not seen anything of him for two or three days, I asked him if there was any other place he knew of that Edgar frequented, and was told he went a good deal to a bowling alley in West Broadway near Duane street. Not much yet, I thought, as I hurried on to West Broadway. Descending a few steps into a basement, I entered a sort of vestibule or office to the bowling saloon. 'Has Mr. Edgar been here this evening?' I inquired of the man in attendance.
'He is here now,' was the reply, 'in the other room, through that door.'
I passed through the door indicated into the bowling alley, and accosted the marker:
'Is Mr. Edgar here?'
'He has just gone—fifteen minutes ago.'
'Do you know where he went to?'