“I wonder if I’m about to be robbed and murdered, thus early in my career in these mountains,” was the thought that flitted through the detective’s mind as he followed the form of his retreating host, with his right hand resting on his repeater, which he had convenient in his coat pocket. But nothing to further excite his fears occurred. Timmins only appeared anxious to keep the traveling bag from the rain, by tucking it carefully under his arm, and covering it with the folds of the cape of his heavy cloak. They advanced rapidly, and Timmins, in default of a lantern, exerted himself to illuminate their devious way with sharp sallies of genuine humor, elicited in original comments upon the state of the weather and “illigant condition of the highway.” The stranger laughed heartily, which was compensation sufficient for the jester, who was merely trying to make himself agreeable. “An’ here we are, betimes, hard by the home of Mr. and Mrs. Timmins—and that’s me an’ my good wife—but divil a glimmer of a light is there in the windy, which is something uncommon with Mrs. Timmins!” The conclusion of these remarks brought the pedestrians, soaking wet, and desirous of putting themselves beyond the reach of the rain, by the side of a large wooden structure, which might be tenantless, from all that any outsider could hear, or see, for that matter, in the darkness of the night. “Phat’s up now, I wonder?” said Timmins, who found his effort to enter the place stubbornly resisted from within. There was no bolt or bar, he said, but come open the door would not. A soft, partly yielding but insurmountable obstacle, resisted the pushing of the two men, who unitedly tried to shove in the barrier. Then movements were heard inside, and presently came a woman’s voice: “Is that you, Tony?” “Yes! It is _me_! An’ phat the wonder is it that fastens the door? It’s kaping myself an’ a stranger out here in the drinchin’ rain, ye are!” “Wait a minute, Tony. An’ glad I am, sure, that ye came as ye did, and I not cold as a stone, fit fur me grave clothes! Let me light the candle an’ maybe I can help yez! It’s the body of a man—whether alive or dead, I can’t say, that so bolts the door agin yez! An’ me an’ the wee childer here all alone until this minit! God be praised, ye came in the very nick of time!” Here was a denouement for the detective’s first day’s work, and one he was not well pleased with. His companion, Timmins, from the manner in which he spluttered and tore about the front yard, was either very badly frightened or very mad, McKenna could not decide which. “I’ll soon see who the scoundrel is, an’ dead or alive, I wouldn’t stan’ in his boots for any small sum! When I get at him, I’ll——”