The woman was gone.
"I might have arrested her," muttered the detective, "had I not chased
her husband into the darkness. I am confident that it's the same couple I
saw in the carriage, yet then he was in disguise."
Sile Keene searched the house from top to bottom, but made no important
discoveries. He was prone to believe, however, that Barkswell was the
assassin of poor Victoria Vane.
"Is this man and Bordine identical? That is the question," mused the
detective. "I am inclined to think they are."
Then he left the house and hurried swiftly away.
The city of Grandon was small, and it did not require much time to
traverse its entire length.
In a little time the detective stood before an unpretending dwelling
which had been pointed out to him as the house of the young engineer.
There was a cheerful glow in the windows, although the curtains were
down. Keene had cast aside his Yankee togs, and appeared undisguised.
The bell was answered by the widow Bordine herself, who at once invited
him into her cozy parlor.
No one was here.
The detective glanced keenly around and noted the comfort of the little
house.
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