They went first to Shay's attorney, but he dismissed the idea as chimerical, so they dropped him from their plans. Together they set to work, with little hope indeed, but it was at least better to be up and doing. Judge Squeaks's office was small, easily entered and productive of nothing. The police would give no information and seemed little interested in the new theory. Squeaks's lodgings yielded nothing new, but they found that Belle's theory was right; he had also had a room on the floor above. The woman in the gray cloak had called on him once or twice in the previous month and had come once since. She was a sort of janitress, as she had a key and straightened up his room. There was no hint of help in this. There was only one of his haunts that they had not thoroughly examined, that was the club. There was no need for that, as they knew every one that came and went, at least by sight. Mrs. Hartigan was sitting in the club office at the back of the building next day when Skystein came in, and sat down to go over some club letters, officially addressed to him. As he read he made a note on each and sorted them into three neat piles. Belle watched him with interest that was a little tinged with shame. It is so human to consider a man inferior if he does not speak your language fluently, and the early impression they had gotten of Skystein gave them a sense of lofty pity. But it did not last. At every board meeting they had found reason to respect the judgment and worldly knowledge of the little Hebrew; those keen black eyes stood for more than cunning, they were the lights of intellect. Belle turned to him now. If any one knew the underworld of the South Ward it was he, and what he didn't know he had means to find out. She openly, frankly, told him all she knew and suspected. He heard her at first doubtingly, then with growing interest, then with a glare of intense attention and conviction at last. His eyes twinkled knowingly as she expressed her opinion of the attorney. Skystein uttered the single word "fixed." Then he tapped his white teeth with his slender forefinger and rose to get the membership roll. He looked over it, but got no help; there was no one entered within the last few months that they could not fully account for. They sat gazing in silence through the window into the adjoining reading room when an elderly woman came in and sat down. She wore a gray cloak and large goggles. "Who is she?" said Belle. "I've seen her often enough, but I don't remember her name." "Dat's Mrs. Davis: she's been coming only about five months. She was one of Squeaks's members."