How could the young man who had built such a snug nest turn his
attention into criminal channels? The widow was but sixty, with a plump
form, pleasant eyes and agreeable manners. Detective Keene was at once
prepossessed in her favor.
Could the son of such a woman be the villain appearances indicated? or
had there been a grand mistake somewhere?
"My name is Keene," said the detective, introducing himself. "I called to
see your son."
"My son is not in."
"When will he return."
"Not until late. His business requires him to keep late hours sometimes."
"Which is unpleasant for you."
"Somewhat, but it won't long be so."
"Indeed?"
"When they are married, he will bring Rose here, and then he'll keep
better hours."
"Rose?"
Detective Keen smiled at the simplicity of the old lady.
"Rose Alstine. They've been keepin' company a long time."
"The young lady is wealthy?"
"How do you know? Have you seen 'em?"
"No, but I've heard of the Alstines," returned Keene.
"Well, I suppose Rose is quite an heiress, especially if the old man's
mine turns out well, he's been buying out in Colorado.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55