Читать книгу Joe Leslie's Wife; or, a Skeleton in the Closet онлайн

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The house seemed to be dark and deserted, but others were in the same condition, the shades being drawn and shutters closed.

New York people, many of them, act as though their houses were meant to be dungeons, being hermetically sealed to shut out the light.

Darrell surveyed the building a few minutes, crossed over, looked at it more closely, started up the steps, then shook his head negatively.

“Not yet—I’ll wait a little,” he muttered.

Glancing up and down the street he saw a small grocery store on the corner.

People must eat, and these venders of daily provisions generally know more about those who live in the neighborhood than any other class.

The gossip and small talk of the street passes current here, and the proprietor hears all.

So Darrell made for the grocery.

It was not a very extensive establishment—the owner and his clerk were not busy, and Darrell, picking out the former, asked:

“Can you tell me who lives at No—?”

The man looked at him with a smile.

“A young woman named Mrs. Lester, whose husband I believe is in California—she was in here once or twice—quite a fine-looking lady,” returned the groceryman.