Seeking, as before, the assistance of the police authorities, Manning proposed to make a tour of the so-called houses of pleasure, which infest all cities, deeming it most likely that he would obtain some traces of Duncan by that means.  This proved successful in a comparative degree, for in one of these places Manning found a gay young cyprian, who recognized Duncan’s picture immediately.  A bottle of very inferior wine at an exorbitant price was ordered, and under its influence the girl informed the detective that Duncan had come there alone one evening about two weeks prior to this time, and that she had accompanied him upon a drive.  They had become quite familiar during their short acquaintance, and Duncan drank a great deal.  On the following morning he had left the house, and stated that he was going to leave the city that day.  Further than this, the girl could not say, and Manning must needs be content with even that trifling amount of encouragement for the present.

Manning had also been provided with a facsimile of Duncan’s handwriting and signature, and he carefully examined the registers of the several hotels, in order to discover whether he had stopped at any of them under his own or any fictitious name which resembled in any manner the one he bore, but without any success whatever.

On returning to the hotel, he occupied himself debating as to the best movement to make next.  He was surprised on arriving there to find a telegram from Capt.  Wallace awaiting him.  On removing the inclosure he found a message informing him that Duncan had an acquaintance in Sioux City whose name was Griswold, and who was engaged in the tailoring business at that place.

Aided by this important piece of intelligence, the detective was not long in finding the establishment presided over by Mr. Griswold.  That gentleman was located in the business section of the city, and his neatly arranged store was well stocked with goods of excellent quality and apparently of recent style.  On entering the shop, Mr. Griswold was found perched on a table in the rear, his legs crossed, and with nimble fingers was engaged in the manufacture of some of the articles of his trade.  He was a small, sharp-featured man, about forty, with a shrewd though not unpleasant face, and as he came briskly forward to greet a prospective customer, his countenance was wreathed in a smile that was almost irresistible.

“Can I do anything for you this morning?” was the polite salutation of the little tailor.

“Yes,” replied the detective.  “I want to look at some goods that will make a good suit of clothes.”

“Certainly,” replied the knight of the shears.  “I have some excellent styles here, and I am sure I can give you your full satisfaction.”

“I have no doubt of that,” said Manning pleasantly.  “I have been recommended here by my friend Tod Duncan, and he speaks very highly of you.”

The face of the little tailor was again wreathed in smiles, as he delightedly inquired: