But I got reading detective books, and did a few sharp things
for the firm that got me into notice and brought me private detective
business. So I got on till I rose to be what I am, such as it is. When
my parents died they left my sister Matilda in my care. I was only
twenty then, and she, eighteen, a bright, pretty girl. She kept my rooms
for me, but I was away most of the time, so she became tired of it, as
we had no relations and hardly any friends we cared to associate with.
She insisted on leaving me and learning the millinery in Toronto; so I
had to let her go. I saw her often, and frequently sent her money. She
got good wages at last and dressed well, and seemed to have respectable
people about her. Suddenly her letters stopped. I went to her place of
business, and heard that she had left to be married to a rich man in the
country; but nobody, not even her closest acquaintances among the girls,
knew where, or who the man was. I advertised, neglected business to hunt
up every clue, travelled all over the country looking for my lost
sister, promised my dead parents never to marry till I found her.
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