Her parents described her exactly. The two men turned to the nearest police box and then disappeared, leaving the old German couple in the throes of distress. A time-worn old church-clock nearby now chimed out one and then two. The notes cut like knives. Mrs. Rogaum began fearfully to cry. Rogaum walked and blustered to himself. “It’s a queer case, that,” said Officer Delahanty to Maguire after having reported the matter of Theresa, but referring solely to the outcast of the doorway so recently sent away and in whose fate they were much more interested. She being a part of the commercialized vice of the city, they were curious as to the cause of her suicide. “I think I know that woman. I think I know where she came from. You do, too--Adele’s, around the corner, eh? She didn’t come into that doorway by herself, either. She was put there. You know how they do.” “You’re right,” said Maguire. “She was put there, all right, and that’s just where she come from, too.” The two of them now tipped up their noses and cocked their eyes significantly. “Let’s go around,” added Maguire. They went, the significant red light over the transom at 68 telling its own story. Strolling leisurely up, they knocked. At the very first sound a painted denizen of the half-world opened the door. “Where’s Adele?” asked Maguire as the two, hats on as usual, stepped in. “She’s gone to bed.” “Tell her to come down.” They seated themselves deliberately in the gaudy mirrored parlor and waited, conversing between themselves in whispers. Presently a sleepy-looking woman of forty in a gaudy robe of heavy texture, and slippered in red, appeared. “We’re here about that suicide case you had to-night. What about it? Who was she? How’d she come to be in that doorway around the corner? Come, now,” Maguire added, as the madam assumed an air of mingled injured and ignorant innocence, “you know. Can that stuff! How did she come to take poison?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the woman with the utmost air of innocence. “I never heard of any suicide.” “Aw, come now,” insisted Delahanty, “the girl around the corner. You know. We know you’ve got a pull, but we’ve got to know about this case, just the same. Come across now. It won’t be published. What made her take the poison?” Under the steady eyes of the officers the woman hesitated, but finally weakened. “Why--why--her lover went back on her--that’s all. She got so blue we just couldn’t do anything with her. I tried to, but she wouldn’t listen.” “Lover, eh?” put in Maguire as though that were the most unheard-of thing in the world. “What was his name?” “I don’t know. You never can tell that.” “What was her name--Annie?” asked Delahanty wisely, as though he knew but was merely inquiring for form’s sake. “No--Emily.” “Well, how did she come to get over there, anyhow?” inquired Maguire most pleasantly. “George took her,” she replied, referring to a man-of-all-work about the place.