The detective glanced at the number of the house, and felt aggrieved--it was the number that was written in the note! And Mr.Wynne had entered with a key! Which meant, in all probability, that he _did_ live there, as he had said! But why did he take that useless cab ride up Fifth Avenue?
If he had no objection to any one knowing his address, why did he go so far out of his way?
Mr.Birnes couldn't say.

As he pondered these questions he saw a maid-servant come out of a house adjoining that which Mr.
Wynne had entered, an he went up boldly to question her.
Did a Mr.Wynne live next door?
Yes.

How long had he lived there?
Five or six months.

Did he own the house?
No.

The people who owned the house had gone to Europe for a year and had rented it furnished.
No, Mr.Wynne didn't have a family.