"A respectable tinsmith who lives next door to Mrs. B."
"And is this the first you knew of an Amy Belden living in R?"
"Yes."
"Widow or wife?"
"Don’t know; don’t know anything about her but her name."
"But you have already sent Q to make inquiries?"
"No; the affair is a little too serious for him to manage alone. He is not equal to great occasions, and might fail just for the lack of a keen mind to direct him."
"In short"
"I wish you to go. Since I cannot be there myself, I know of no one else sufficiently up in the affair to conduct it to a successful issue. You see, it is not enough to find and identify the girl. The present condition of things demands that the arrest of so important a witness should be kept secret. Now, for a man to walk into a strange house in a distant village, find a girl who is secreted there, frighten her, cajole her, force her, as the case may be, from her hiding-place to a detective’s office in New York, and all without the knowledge of the next-door neighbor, if possible, requires judgment, brains, genius. Then the woman who conceals her! She must have her reasons for doing so; and they must be known. Altogether, the affair is a delicate one. Do you think you can manage it?"
"I should at least like to try."
Mr. Gryce settled himself on the sofa. "To think what pleasure I am losing on your account!" he grumbled, gazing reproachfully at his helpless limbs. "But to business. How soon can you start?"
