“Oh! that’s a swate enough story!” was the quick retort of the Bodymaster, “but you’ll allow that I know somethin’ of a job that I planned be myself, an’ wor there on hand, when it wor all done!” Here was a direct confession of one of the murderers, which was more than McKenna had expected. But at once dropping his assumption of disbelief, he acquiesced in the statement that Kerrigan really should be well informed, and begun to talk of the pistol, which was, in the operative’s presence, turned over to McNellis for transportation to its owner, James Roarty, of Storm Hill. Subsequently the trio went to Carroll’s, and found the saloon-keeper at home. But McKenna warned Kerrigan that, for his own sake, it was best they two should not be seen together on the street, and Jimmy walked alone, while McNellis and the operative traveled in company. While going toward town, McKenna again handled the old revolver, and found it to be of rather peculiar construction. In order to take out the cylinder a screw had to be unloosed in front of said cylinder. The weapon was fully loaded, and had one rusty screw, evidently not a part of it when leaving the manufactory. Somebody had given it repairs. But where, and who? These were questions to be solved in the future. Before nine o’clock McNellis started for Storm Hill, carrying the tell-tale pistol with him. Subsequently Kerrigan and Carroll engaged in games at cards. At ten P.M. the “babe”—a name given the Tamaqua Bodymaster, but not on account of his known innocence—and McKenna visited a point on the hill, near the old cemetery, and sat down on a bank of earth together to have a talk. Kerrigan expressed a feeling of great bitterness toward Yost and McCarron, saying he had once been arrested by the policemen for taking the part of Duffy. Warming up a little, and deftly urged on by the detective, Kerrigan, in the end, made a revelation, substantially confirming young Mike McKenna’s statements. He said he got his men in their positions, the night of the fifth, then went down town, where he drank with the policeman whose life was to be taken, and saw that Duffy was well in bed at Carroll’s and all was right for the deed. He assured McKenna that not a man in his division, excepting Carroll, knew anything about it. He did not want them informed. Although the act was brought around by the order, it was enough for him—the President of the division—to be aware of it, and when the ordinary members came to be called on to do a job for Campbell in return, they would suspect, but could swear to nothing. Before the shooting, he went to the spot and remained in the vicinity, in concealment, until he saw that his men had put in their work. In a few minutes he retreated, with the rest, through the run and over the hill, and kept with them until coming out near Breslin’s, at the White Bear Tavern. There he left the others, they going to their houses at Storm Hill, where they must have arrived at about five in the morning. The