“This wan was, sor,” the policeman said, indicating the one behind him, “when they took away the corrpse, an’ so was the next round the corrner. ’Tis the bedroom windies they are, an’ they opened thim to give ut a bit av air. The other windy behin’--sittin’-room windy--has not been opened.” “Very well,” Hewitt answered, “we’ll take a look at that unopened window from the inside.” The door was opened and they passed inside. There was a small lobby, and on the left of this was the bedroom with two single beds. The only other room of consequence was the sitting-room, the cottage consisting merely of these, a small scullery and a narrow closet used as a bath-room, wedged between the bedroom and the sitting-room. They made for the single window of the sitting-room at the back. It was an ordinary sash window, and was shut, but the catch was not fastened. Hewitt examined the catch, drawing Mr. Bowyer’s attention to a bright scratch on the grimy brass. “See,” he said, “that nick in the catch exactly corresponds with the narrow space between the two frames of the window. And look”--he lifted the bottom sash a little as he spoke--“there is the mark of a knife on the frame of the top sash. Somebody has come in by that window, forcing the catch with a knife.” “Yes, yes!” cried Mr. Bowyer, greatly excited, “and he has gone out that way too, else why is the window shut and the catch not fastened? Why should he do that? What in the world does _this_ thing mean?” Before Hewitt could reply the constable put his head into the room and announced that one Larry Shanahan was at the door, and had been promised half a sovereign. “One of the men who heard a shot,” Hewitt said to Mr. Bowyer. “Bring him in, constable.” The constable brought in Larry Shanahan, and Larry Shanahan brought in a strong smell of whisky. He was an extremely ragged person, with only one eye, which caused him to hold his head aside as he regarded Hewitt, much as a parrot does. On his face sun-scorched brown and fiery red struggled for mastery, and his voice was none of the clearest. He held his hat against his stomach with one hand and with the other pulled his forelock. “An’ which is the honourable jintleman,” he said, “as do be burrnin’ to prisint me wid a bit o’ goold?” “Here I am,” said Hewitt, jingling money in his pocket, “and here is the half-sovereign. It’s only waiting where it is till you have answered a few questions. They say you heard a shot fired hereabout?” “Faith, an’ that I did, sor. ’Twas a shot in this house, indade, no other.” “And when was it?” “Sure, ’twas in the afthernoon.” “But on what day?” “Last Tuesday sivin-noight, sor, as I know by rayson av Ballyshiel fair that I wint to.” “Tell me all about it.”