Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1899-10-20
concerned "Daisy's Quesf.D

"Oh," he replied, 1--WE gave 1t up. The
detective merely wasted week. 1t was
throwing good money after bad"
breathed more freely, and for few
days tried to make myself believe that
I had dismissed Miss Robertson and
"Daisy's Quest" from my mind. Sc.
cretly, knew better. For week I
kept away from the neighborhood Of
the library. Then one day really had
occasion to consult book that I knew
was there and nowhere else; SO re-
solved to go. Surely had the right to
do so, and it would be idiotic to allow q
morbid memory to interfere with my
business or even my pleasure. So
went. It was just before the noon hour.
There she sat as usual her eyes fastened
upon her work. When the bell rang
greasy-looking chap in green goggles
and with a sickly grin carried her books
to the desk for her; and she thanked
him with smile.
Probably she was a good deal of
flirt. And probably was not the only
young man whose acquaintance she had
made in the street. got away before
she saw me. Another week passed.
Life had lost its SAVIOR. 1t was of no
use trying to deceive myself. Perhaps
the best thing to do was to take up my
detective business again. I had made
so brilliant success of it alreadyl But
that was the only avenue towards a
reconciliation. She would forgive me
when I found the thief of "Daisy's
Quest" But where should begin? It
looked hopeless, and it might take
months-or years. Meantime that
greasy fellow in the green goggles
would be making Roadway; slowly, per-
haps, but the turtle gotthere in the end.
Suppose I did take up "Daisy's
Quest" again and gave all my spare time
and money to the enterprise, what were
my chances of accomplishing anything?
II l gave years to it, Miss Robertson
might at least give me credit for devo-
ton to the cause; I might, and probably
would, grow thin and haggard-that
might touch her. But, again, might
devote no end of time and money to the
case, and Miss Robertson be no wiser
and no better for it in the end. still
had her umbrella; that was some COM
fort. If could only take it back to her
should be willing to undergo some of
the choicest tortures of the Spanish In
QUESTION. The more pondered the less
light saw ahead of me.
Twas at the lowest ebb of courage and
hope, and seriously thought Of boldly
calling at Miss Robcrtson's house to re-
turn that umbrella, for life of the kind
led was not worth living, when some
thing occurred. Upon getting home to
dinner one night found dirty scrap
of paper with these words scrawled
upon it:
II can tell you:where Danders is to be
seen.
JAMES SULLIVAN.
Bartender attsls East Thirteenth street"
My brain was on fire in a minute. All
the whisky in Sullivan's saloon could
not have made it work at a quicker pace.
No dinner for me that night. In ten
minutes had found cab and was
bowling along to 31s East Thirteenth
street. found my barkeeping friend
exasperatingly cool. had expected to
find him eagerly waiting for me. On
the contrary, had to Introduce myself
and refresh his memory with that Ave
dollar bill before he could remember
much about Danders. Yes, Danders had
turned up again, but'not in, that saloon.
Sullivan had met him at the.saloon Of q
friend of his in Twenty-seeond street
near Ninth avenue, and upon making
inquiries had discovered that he (Dan-
ders) was accustomed to spend most Of
his evenings there.
Off I started for Twenty-second
street. 1t was past eight o'clock when
sauntered into the saloon with as good
an air OF indifference as could sum-
mon up. Was Danders there? Adozen
men were in the saloon, some playing
cards, some reading the papers or Cos
siping. In one corner was, a man whose
face was strangely familiar to me. /
sat down before a glass OF beer and
while pretending to read, a newspaper
studied Danders. It was Dauders with
out doubt-.'a small young fellow,
reddish hair, chin-whiskers, seedy
dress;" he filled Sullivan subscription.
But where had seen him before? /
have capital memory, and was able
to reconstruct gradually the scene in
which Danders had played a part in my
life. 1t was in some gloomy place. The
light was bad. The man was CARRYING
something in his arms. Butwhat? Ali
had 1t now. 1t was, load Of books.
Then the truth flashed upon me. Dan
ders was the clerk at the library whom
had met in the alcope whenI had gone
to look at that copy of the Londoner.
Ny work was done. finished my beer
and went to the house of my friend the
librarian, getting his address from the
directory.
Can you tell me whose handwriting
that is?" asked him, producing Dam
ders' letter to the Gazette.
Certainly" said he, without sec
ond's hesitation. Its the writing Of
Jameson, the man who has charge Of
the magazine department of the IL
brary."
Then told him what had learned.
Il never fully trusted that fellow"
was my friends comment as he agreed
to meet me at the.library the next morn
ing.
When got there he was already in
his private room, and before him was
the famous card bearing Miss Robert
sons name.
Pm afraid that you don't half know
your business, Mr.. Detectives" said he,
with smile.
I'm afraid not" said /.
WTnka another lonL NJ fto% ,,or,3 o,5