“You’ve got keen ones, Garvan, all right,” Mulligan said, with a laugh. “’Tain’t much.” “Come across. What is it?” “I’ve seen a woman coming out of that house who don’t stand ace high. She pretends to be all right, but between you and me, Garvan, she’s as clever and crooked a jade as you’ll find from Harlem to the Battery. Harlem--that’s where she hangs out when at home.” “What is her name?” questioned Patsy, with increasing interest. “Nell Margate.” “Any relation to Jim Margate, of Harlem?” “She’s his sister.” “H’m, is that so?” thought Patsy, who not only knew Jim Margate personally, but also knew him to be a decidedly bad character. “Margate’s sister, eh? If you knew Nell Margate to be in that house, Mulligan, why didn’t you tip some one to the fact?” “A dick?” “Yes.” “Why would I?” said Mulligan, with a deprecatory shake of his head. “It was no funeral of mine. How could I know why she was there?” “A crook is always out for crooked work.” “But I’m not hired to catch them, Garvan, like you,” said Mulligan. “Many a crook has paid me good money. It isn’t up to me to stool-pigeon for the police. I’ve got to shut my eyes and keep my trap closed, or I might get mine for not doing it. I wouldn’t have mentioned this, only I know I might get in wrong from not telling you, since you’ve questioned me about it.” “Is there anything more you can tell me?” asked Patsy. “Divil a thing. You’ve got all I can hand you.” “When did you see Nell Margate leaving the Barker residence?” “Something like a week ago.” “Describe her.” “She’s a well-built, dark girl, about twenty-five years old,” Mulligan responded. “She’s a good looker, Garvan, and makes the most of it. Being clever, too, she gets by with many a stunt. I happen to know all this, Garvan, because Jim Margate’s place isn’t far from my own.” “In one of the outskirts, isn’t it?” “Yes, pretty well out. The old man used to run it for a road house. There’s been nothing doing since he died--that is, nothing on the surface,” Mulligan pointedly added. Patsy knew what he meant--that Margate’s place was the resort of crooks. He slipped Mulligan a bank note, remarking: “Forget it--also what we have said.” “Bet you!” “So long.” Patsy stepped into the hotel and tried to telephone to Nick, but Joseph told him that he had not returned; also that Chick, though he had telephoned an hour before, had left no message. “Nothing doing,” thought Patsy, returning to the street. “I’ll keep going, then, on my own hook. Nell Margate, eh? She was the woman Chick saw last night. Mulligan’s description fits her to the letter.” “I guess it’s up to me, by Jove, to have a look at Jim Margate’s place. It’s no crazy bet that Deland and Nell Margate are there, if not the whole knavish bunch. I’ll soon find out.” Patsy already was acting upon these resolutions.