The detective now thought it time that he turned toward Shenandoah. He therefore took his baggage to the depot and procured a ticket for that place. Bidding the few friends he had made at Tamaqua farewell for the present, he mounted the smoking-car and soon afterward found himself in the then hot-bed and grand centre of the Mollies for Schuylkill County. Framing the usual excuse, that he was looking for a job in some colliery, he managed to extract the information, without exactly making inquiries, that Lawler was still absent in Pottsville and not likely to return for several days. He at once determined to go there and make the gentleman’s acquaintance, if possible, in Dormer’s saloon, where he knew he would be surrounded by true and faithful friends. The weather was freezing cold and he would have a good reason to urge for the short journey, in that his wardrobe sadly needed replenishing. An overcoat and some other articles of comfort were in pressing demand. Consequently he remained in Shenandoah but a few hours, going by the next train to Pottsville. It was not long before he was again at the Sheridan House, in company with his former companion and fellow Mollie, big, smiling, ugly Pat Dormer. The innkeeper was so highly elated to once more behold McKenna, that he quickly entered upon a grand spree, that bid fair to last him a week, during which time he would do little more than guzzle whisky and beer and sound high the praises of the “d——st best Irishman in the whole of Schuylkill County,” as he frequently designated his particular friend from Denver. Without appearing too deeply interested, the detective discovered that Lawler was yet in Pottsville and habitually frequenting certain bar-rooms more industriously than seemed exactly incumbent upon a perfectly sober citizen. Hence he waited the time when he should arrive at Dormer’s house.