Among a large number of women who reported to the detective chief was a Mrs. Cosgriff, a sharp and voluble Irishwoman, who maintained a rooming house in Twenty-seventh street, Brooklyn. Mrs. Cosgriff asserted that two women with a little girl of Marion Clarke’s age and general appearance had rented a room from her on the evening of the eventful Sunday and spent the night there. The next morning one of them had got the newspapers, gone to her room, remained secluded with the other woman and child for a time, and had then come out to announce that they would not remain another day. Mrs. Cosgriff thought she detected excitement in the manner of both women, but she had to admit that the child had made no complaint or outcry. Nevertheless, she felt that these were the wanted people. Had she noted anything of special interest about the child, any peculiarity by which the parents might recognize her? Or had she heard the women mention any town or place to which they might have gone? The lodging-house keeper considered a moment, confessed that her curiosity had led her to do a little spying, and recalled that she had heard one of the women mention a town. Either she had not heard the name distinctly, or she had forgotten part of it, but it was a name ending in berg or burg. She was certain of that. Fitchburg, Pittsburg, Williamsburg, Plattsburg--something like that. She did not know the reason for her feeling, but she was sure it was a place not very far from New York. As to a peculiarity of the child, she had noted nothing except that it seemed good-humored, healthy, and clever. She had heard one of the women say: “Come on, baby! Show us how Mrs. Blank does.” Evidently the little girl had done some sort of impersonation. Captain McClusky was inclined to place some credence in Mrs. Cosgriff’s account, but he saw no special promise in her revelations till he repeated the details to the agonized parents. At the mention of the childish impersonation, Mrs. Clarke leaped up in excitement. “That was Marion!” she cried. “That’s one of her little tricks!” It developed that the nurse, Carrie Jones, had spent hours playing with the child, teaching it to walk and pose like a certain affected woman friend of its mother. Undoubtedly then, Marion Clarke, Carrie Jones, and another woman had been in South Brooklyn the evening after the abduction and spent the night and part of the next day at Mrs. Cosgriff’s, leaving in the afternoon for a town whose name ended in burg or berg.