stooped to fraternize with a plainclothesman there was some ulterior motive behind it. Porter was not easily taken in, but Odell resolved to caution him nevertheless.
"I went down to the second floor, but I couldn't disturb Mr. Lorne of course; and the old lady, Miss Meade, was in her room. Just then Miss Chalmers—Miss Cissie, as Jane calls her—came out like a whirlwind, slammed her door, and went off down the back stairs clicking her heels at every step as if she were mad clear through; and I took a peep into her room!" Taylor threw up both hands. "Lace and ribbons, perfume and powder, and all in a hopeless jumble. It'd take a day to go through it properly; but I steered straight for the only thing I could find locked up, a little drawer in her vanity dresser. The only things I found in it, after I got it open were these notes, a box of cigarettes, a bottle of medicine, and a little round jar of rouge. Looks like the young lady was tryin' to learn to be a sport on the quiet. There was a grate in her room, too; but it was as clean as the one in her sister's. The notes are all in the same handwriting, you see, and all as proper as you please; but this one taken in connection with the bottle of medicine I found in the drawer looks kind of"—Taylor recalled his late rebuke and shrugged. "Oh, well, judge for yourself, sir."
He placed the notes before Odell upon the table and pointed out one of them as he spoke. A glance sufficed to show the detective that they were, as Taylor had said, in the same writing; and that writing was the unmistakable hand of Farley Drew, whose letters to Gene were now reposing in Odell's pocket. He picked up the note indicated and read:
