The detective and his friend then left, saying they would call at an early hour in the afternoon, prepared to return to Shenandoah with the persons appointed. Before leaving Callaghan, the Secretary treated twice, and he and Garvey sallied out to find what was to be seen at the Plane. They first visited Joe Murphy’s house, where they had more liquor, and, after taking the rounds of all the saloons, both begun to feel they had swallowed something more powerful than water—McKenna, especially, finding himself so badly under the influence that he exhibited it in his walk and conversation, the former fast becoming vibratory, and the latter boisterous. When they reappeared at Callaghan’s, it was nearly dark, and the Bodymaster informed them he had not found the needed men. He said he did not despair, however, and, after treating once or twice, went out to continue the search. In his absence McKenna was entirely overcome, fell sprawling over on a long bench, and soon relapsed into a drunken stupor, from which neither Garvey nor Callaghan, with use of every known appliance, could succeed in awakening him. It was fully nine o’clock at night, and Garvey had taken the train for Shenandoah, before the drunken Secretary was made sufficiently sensible to understand that he must get up. So sottish was his condition that Callaghan found himself forced to secure a bed for him for the night, and assist in putting him under its cover. The detective had, at least, postponed his own participation in the James matter, and was almost certain Gibbons would delay any attempt to kill the Welshman until he returned. Still there was a remote chance of his pursuing an opposite course. But McKenna was perfectly helpless. No dispatch could be sent to Philadelphia from that small place without creating suspicion. The best he could do was to sit up in bed, write a few lines in pencil, setting forth the danger James was in, seal it, stamp it, having recourse to the improvised stamp depository in his boot-leg, and after midnight, when all in the house were supposed to be asleep, steal softly down-stairs, in his stockings, with _brogues_ in hand, and go to the post-office. All of this he succeeded in doing, and in safely mailing his letter, and got back to his couch without discovery. There was the risk that Gibbons had obtained his men from Mahanoy City, and might be even then waiting for Gomer James, ready to take his life. He found enough in this thought to banish refreshing sleep. But McKenna remained in his room until people were stirring for another day, and then rising, walked about in the cool air until Callaghan made his appearance in the bar-room. “Did ye get the men?” inquired McKenna, after greeting the tavern keeper. “Divil a man!” answered Callaghan. “An’ do ye mane to?” “Sure, an’ I do!”