The two passed on up the stairs. They had, however, been seen talking with the policeman. As they reached the third floor, a rough voice asked: “What do you fellows want up here? You’d better be making yourself scarce if you want to keep your shape.” The speaker was meanly dressed and generally foul in appearance. “I take it,” said Nick coolly, “that you are the janitor.” “What is it to you who I am?” demanded the other. “Get out!” Nick turned to his assistant. “Call the policeman,” he said. “We’ll cool this chap off in jail.” “What have I done?” whined the janitor, seeing that he had made a mistake. “You might have thrown that jar down on the boy, for all I know,” said Nick, with a wink at Chick. “What would I do such a thing for?” asked the frightened janitor. “For money,” replied the detective. “Was it a murder?” asked the janitor, trembling. “It looks like it might be before long.” “Then the woman did it!” said the janitor. “The woman?” repeated Nick. “What woman?” “Why,” was the reply, “the woman who rented the room yesterday, and who went off just a little while ago.” “Just after the boy was killed?” “Yes, not five minutes after.” “What sort of a woman was it?” “Oh, I didn’t notice her particularly. One of the sort that live here, I take it,” answered the janitor. “Young or old?” “Middle-aged, I guess.” “Did you rent the room to her?” “Yes, yesterday afternoon.” “What did she say about her occupation?” “I asked no questions, sir. It is not always best to do so.” “Well, give us a look at the room.” The place was small, and cheap, and dirty. In the way of furniture it contained only a flat bed, a spotted washstand, a chair, and an old dresser. The detectives sent the janitor away, much to his disappointment, and made a careful study of the place. “Here’s more red hair,” said Chick. “I wonder if this is bleached?” Examination showed that it was. Nick took several articles from the chest and the top of the dresser and carried them away with him. “If the room was hired for the purpose of getting rid of the boy,” said Chick, as the detectives walked away, “why should it have been taken yesterday? The boy was not in the game at that time.” “He was sent along that street because the window was there with a murderous heart behind it. The room was not hired because there was a plot against the boy at that time. Presently we shall doubtless know why it was engaged, and who the tenant was.” “The whole case is a wonder,” said Chick. “I confess that I don’t know what to make of it. And it seems to me that we are not progressing very rapidly.” There was an inscrutable smile on the face of the detective as he asked: “What’s your notion of getting on with a case?” “Why, getting a clue to work on.” “You don’t see one here?” “Why, there’s a woman with bleached hair, and a young man who calls himself a reporter, and the chief of the Great Diamond Syndicate, and all that, but we don’t know where to look for them.”