"What's your name, my man?" he asked, at the same time carelessly showing his shield. "Slattery," was the gruff reply, "and I'll bet it's good for more money nor yours." "Very likely, but it may be good for less if you should happen to lose your license. Who was that old man with the basket of fish that just went out of here?" "No one went out of here. The place is closed. I'm just after getting up out of me bed." "You lie, Slattery, and you know it!" exclaimed the detective, sternly. "Now, answer my questions, and I promise that you shall not be interfered with in any way; refuse, and I shall make it warm for you, now you may depend." "Well, then, I don't know him from a crow. He just stopped in here for a sup of beer." "You saw what happened to him outside?" "Suppose I did?" "How long before was it that he entered your place?" "Tin minutes, mebbe--mebbe not more nor five." "And you don't know him?" "I do not. I tould ye that before." "And how about the old woman in the worsted hood that entered this place a moment before this man came out? Who was she, and where is she now?" "That? Oh, that was Mrs. Marley," replied the saloon-keeper, with the air of a man relieved to be questioned on a point upon which he could answer freely at last. "And who is Mrs. Marley?" "The woman what lives on the top flure of the house in the rear; she passed through by way of the store, as she often does." "What sort of a person is she?" "Faix, an' ye'd better ax hersilf; I've as much as I can do to attind to me own concerns. She lives all alone by hersilf, pays her rint promptly, and goes an' comes whin she likes. The neighbors say she's mad, and mebbe she is--it's no business at all of mine." "Show me her room," said Caleb Hook, abruptly. "I'll question her for myself." "Well, then, go through the back dure, cross the yard, and you see a house in the rear--" "I shall do nothing of the sort. You will go ahead and show me the way to this woman's room. Come, be lively, I've no time to waste." The saloon-keeper hesitated for an instant, and then moved towards the room beyond. That the detective was a man not to be trifled with he now fully realized. "Come, then," he said, gruffly. "I want to be through with this business as soon as I can, for I've something else to do beside wasting me time like this." He opened a rear door and led the way across a narrow courtyard. A small frame dwelling stood before them. Connecting with the street was a narrow alley, now choked up with snow. In the hurried survey of the scene taken by the detective, he observed that the snow was much trodden down by feet, as though several persons had passed in and out, notwithstanding the earliness of the hour. "This way," said P. Slattery, opening the door of the rear house and advancing up a pair of rickety stairs. The detective followed in silence.