In other parts of the dwelling, the arrangements for home comfort were not extensive or expensive, yet all that could well be expected of people in Mr. and Mrs. Lawler’s sphere in life. Passing the time very pleasantly at Shenandoah, which is an agreeable and growing city of some three thousand inhabitants, the detective made occasional trips—as he informed his new-found friend, with an expressive wink of the eye, “upon particular business”—to the town of Colorado, where he encountered and became intimate with one Hugh Mulligan, then to Rappahannock and other points, in all of which localities he made good friends among the Sleepers. He eventually took up his abode at Lawler’s house, occupying the bed in the centre apartment, up stairs, in company with Mrs. Lawler’s brother, and paying a reasonable compensation for room and board. Situated as he now was, in the midst of the hardest characters and most devoted Mollies of the whole country, living in the house, and on most intimate terms of friendship, with the leading spirits of the organization, though not yet a member of the murderous order, it was plainly incumbent upon the detective, if he cared for preserving his own life and promoting the success of the Agency, to exercise more than ordinary prudence and discretion in all of his words and movements, that he might not be thought other than the wandering vagabond, fleeing from justice, that he was generally believed to be. It seemed especially necessary that his correspondence with the Philadelphia office should not be discovered, or even imagined. The precautions and safeguards placed about that portion of the business before McKenna started from the city, would baffle all inquiry, in the end, if once set on foot, but even the breath of suspicion should not be allowed to arise. Men have been murdered from the mere supposition that they might be guilty of acting as detectives, in Ireland, and the same spirit pervaded the ranks of the Mollie Maguires here—hence matters calculated to excite a surmise must be deeply buried. The detective’s compulsory letter-writing, if made public, even though its object and destination were ever so well disguised, might place him in a dangerous predicament. Thus he was alert, and continually vigilant. Excepting it might be in inditing a letter to relatives in the old country, and then only at long intervals, he seldom wrote anything—that is, as far as his companions were apprised. His daily reports must, however, be prepared as usual. This was mandatory upon him, and in no case to be omitted if the duty could be safely performed. Occasionally a day or two might be unavoidably missed, and then the consolidated report would go forward in one envelope. Sometimes he was forced to take a short journey to an adjacent town, secure a room at a second-class hotel, and there indite his letters and mail them to the proper address. Thus they would quickly reach Mr. Franklin.