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Updated: May 3, 2025
Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates.
Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the world-wide known agency, had for more than fifty years been engaged in solving mysteries and apprehending offenders against the law. His success had been phenomenal, and if his agency had been called "The Scotland Yard of America" it would have been a derogation rather than a compliment.
In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but Miss Dana was not present. "Signorita," he said, "I am informed that you have come to restore the ring which you took from me." Then he noticed by her side was the same basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty.
"But I am." "How so?" and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment. "Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you should call upon me to recover it?" "Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. If found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady." "Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness." "My niece, Rose Isburn.
"I have thought several times that I was sorry that you told me about it, for I have felt that if anything happened I should be an object of suspicion." "Oh, no," cried Mr. Isburn. "No such suspicion ever entered my mind. I could not be so mean and ungenerous as to think such a thing. The only person I suspect is an Italian girl who came in here to sell some flowers.
"Then you will be my employer," and Mary's blue eyes were opened as wide as they could be. "Within a week, I shall be Mr. Isburn. I shall not use my own name." His manner changed instantly. "This morning I met an old college friend. He was doing the historical points of old Boston with his father and his father's friend, a Rev. Mr. Dysart of Yonkers, New York."
"She didn't get the last two at home, but society furnished them. He attended her to parties and receptions and then went back to his library until it was time to escort her home. "One night when he went for her she could not be found. No one had seen her leave she had mysteriously disappeared. Mr. Isburn gave me the case. I'll make the story short for it is eleven o'clock."
"Leave her your money, and let her choose some honest, clean, young American." "Well, I think you are right," answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's half serious, half comic air, "but I must first sell my business. Will you find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. I've had my fill of adventure and excitement."
"Well I fixed it up with him, and he will sail for Europe with his niece as soon as we can take charge." "We? Why, what do you mean, Mr. Sawyer?" "I mean that I've engaged to pay Mr. Isburn one hundred thousand dollars for his agency, a one-half interest to become mine and the other half to be transferred to my wife as soon as I am married, which will be soon."
Quincy and his chum were not goody-goody boys, but they had mutually pledged each other that they would lead temperate lives and refrain from all dissipation that would prejudice their standing as students. Quincy saw Mary frequently, and, after she was employed by Mr. Isburn, they talked over some of the most interesting of Mary's cases.
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