“I don’t like the look of our friend,” remarked Thrush, looking hard at Mullins when at last they were alone. “He shapes none too well for the strain he’s got to bear; if he cracks up there’ll be a double tragedy, if not a triple one, in that family. We must catch our hare quickly, Mullins, or we may catch him too late.” Mullins turned on the disagreeable grin that Thrush had so resented a few minutes before; he took no notice of it now. “You’ll find your man,” said Mullins significantly, “the very moment that I find mine, Mr. Thrush.” “Meaning they’re the same person?” “To be sure.” “That this lad is the actual slayer of the man Holdaway?” “Surely, sir, it’s as plain as a pikestaff now?” “Not to me, Mullins—not to me.” Thrush was twinkling behind his great round goggles. “Then who do you think has done it, sir?” inquired Mullins, in deferential derision. “Ah! that’s another matter, my man; but I can tell you whom I hope to get arrested within another hour!” Mullins looked as though he could hardly believe his ears; his jaw, black as a crape hat-band this morning, fell in front of his grimy collar. “You’re actually thinking of arresting some one else?” “I am—with your permission, Mullins.” “Tell me who it is, sir, for Heaven’s sake!” And with his fattest smile Thrush whispered into an ear that recoiled from his words as though they had been so many drops of boiling oil. CHAPTER XIII. BOY AND GIRL Pocket Upton was able to relieve his soul of one load that morning. Dr. Baumgartner had left the schoolboy to his soap and water, taking the newspaper with him; but apparently Pocket had followed him down in quicker time than the other anticipated. At any rate the little lady of the house was all alone in the dining-room, where Pocket found her boiling eggs on the gas-fire, and had her to himself for several seconds of which he wasted none. There was neither grace nor tact in what he said, and his manner was naturally at its worst, but the penitential torrent came from his heart, and was only stemmed by the doctor’s hasty arrival on the scene. Miss Platts had not been given time to say a word, but now she asked Mr. Upton how many minutes he liked his egg boiled, and would not let him do it himself, but smiled when he told her it was “done to a shake.” Dr. Baumgartner, on the other hand, scowled upon them both until observation or reflection had convinced him that no promises had been broken and no confidences exchanged.