the comfortable, well-lighted dining-hall, when the door chanced to be open, and that was all. Later at night he climbed a rough ladder, nearly at the top of the house, he believed, found his loft, with its straw bed and blankets, and an old saddle for a pillow. Extinguishing his candle, he rolled himself, full dressed as he was, in his coverings, and soon fell asleep. Not all the insects in the place, nor the rats that ran over him, nor the cats that made night hideous with their wailings and spittings could, for more than a few moments at a stretch, banish sleep from McKenna’s eyelids. ————●———— CHAPTER VI. POTTSVILLE AND THE SHERIDAN HOUSE. The detective, after making a casual inspection of the place, during the following day, was in many respects well suited with it. Usually carrying on considerable trade, he found all the people of the town complaining of dull times, even the collieries employing but few hands. The blast-furnaces were in the same category. Wading through the snow, during his walks about the streets, he chanced upon some men whose faces were not new to his sight, having previously encountered them at Schuylkillhaven, and he naturally resumed the intercourse there begun. Nothing of particular importance resulted, however, excepting wet feet and dread of impending rheumatisms and neuralgias. He at once changed his quarters from the hotel to a private boarding-house, where the style of living was less pretentious, the price charged patrons not nearly so exhaustive of his finances—and yet the accommodations, as far as this particular boarder was concerned, were considerably more comfortable. Beside, he was quite at home, and in a better position for work. And here were many acquaintances to form.