The dogs slunk away, while without another word the woman turned her back on us and reentered. Heavy boxes were pulled roughly across the floor to serve instead of chairs for us, as we followed her in. One object, however, fixed our attention. Opposite the entrance, on a narrow bed, his legs pendent from its side, his back against the wall, sat the suspected murderer, as if fast asleep. His lower jaw had dropped down, his hands hung listlessly; no attempt at life-expression on his face to conceal its deformity. His aspect was haggard and revolting in the extreme. Purposely raising my voice to a high key, I said to the son-in-law,— "Callahan is missing; we wish to know if you can tell us where he is?" Continuing to strop his razor, he replied, jerking out his words, "Don't know where he is, if he isn't to home! Lives in the shanty down there. I ain't the feller's gardeen. Comes and goes jest when he's a mind ter; perhaps he's gone off a while. He'll turn up safe and sound, I warrant yer." "When did you see him last, Mr. Shuber?" "O, as to that, I haven't seen nothing of him since Wednesday morning." "But haven't you thought it strange that he should be away so long?" "Don't give ourselves, up here, any trouble about the 'little Irishman,'" the last two words pronounced with a hard sneer. "He takes care of himself, and we take care of ourselves." "Well," said I, loudly, "perhaps your father can tell us something about him. Won't you ask him?" at which a slight flush tinged the cheeks of the sleeper, then quickly disappeared, while the son-in-law, continuing to ply the razor, replied curtly,— "He's asleep." Questioning other members of the household, who returned confused and contradictory answers, I again said to Shuber, "Perhaps Mr. Ringe can give us some information about Callahan." "Father's asleep," interposed Shuber's wife, "and we don't like to wake him up." The old man's wife had been uneasily moving about, now going out of the house, now returning, avoiding conversation. Turning suddenly to her, I said, authoritatively, "We wish to ask your husband a question. You must at once wake him up." Stepping to the bed, she placed her hand lightly on his knee, and ere she had uttered a word, he opened his eyes, stretched up his arms and yawned, saying, confusedly,—"What—what—what do you want?" "These gentlemen have called to ask about Callahan," said the wife, quickly. "They say he's gone off, or something."