Pat McKenna, during the day, made a statement to the detective sustaining what Campbell had previously said, and more might have been gathered from the same source had not the place been so crowded with patrons. The Bodymaster was a little more cautious than Campbell had been, and the officer did not press him, however badly he wanted to have the names of the men who had been sent to put Yost out of the way. That night McParlan, _alias_ McKenna, remained at the house of his _quasi_ and convenient cousin, Pat McKenna, and enjoyed a good night’s sleep, which, considering his arduous labors and long-continued excitement of mind, he greatly needed. Saturday, the seventeenth of July, was a sunny and rather sultry summer’s day. In the forenoon, McParlan entered the bar of McKenna, senior, and was there joined by Mike McKenna, a younger son of the tavern-keeper, and brother of Pat, the Bodymaster. When all had taken some drinks together, McParlan found a seat in the shade, not far away, saying he felt very sick, after such a prolonged debauch, and young Mike followed. Protected by the spreading branches of a tree, the pretended cousin indulged his propensity for romancing—in true interest of the public—to its full extent, rehearsing with additions and embellishments, the absorbing particulars of the many “clane jobs” in which he had participated—all purely figments of the brain from commencement to end, but given in such minuteness of detail, and appearance of candor and frankness, that the interested hearer took them in without doubt or distrust of their truthfulness. Mike believed implicitly in Jim McKenna. When the searcher after knowledge had exhausted his store of material and talked himself hoarse, Mike thought it his turn to say something, and while he had little to urge for himself, sung pæans to the prowess of his elder brother, Pat McKenna, the Bodymaster. He spun many fine tales of no particular value to his single auditor, but to all of which the operative affected to give earnest and undivided attention. In a little while, without in the least appearing to do so, McParlan brought the young fellow around to the main question, and he plainly stated that the men who had killed Yost were Hugh McGehan and James Boyle, both then living at Summit Hill. “Ye see, sir, it wor a bargain wid the boys around Tamaqua, by Campbell, who jist wants some of them, wan of these fine days, to do for Jones, who is a sort of Sub-Superintendent at Old Mines. He is Charlie Parrish’s tool, an’ but fur this fellow Jones we’d have been at work long ago! Hugh McGehan is the best man at a clane job in all the county, an’ it’s a pity fur him to have to lave now, after lyin’ idle so long!” “I was sure in my own mind, before, who had done the trick! But, be jabers, it wor a well-laid plan, an’ mighty nice wor it carried out! I suppose Jones will be taken off directly the excitement of the last affair blows over!”