The man seemed to be embarrassed, and hung his head, as if trying to think hard. “I didn’t just see his face,” he said, at length. “He had on a shiny hat, and whiskers all around his face, that were dark, and the clothes he had on were swell.” “Would you know him again if you were to see him?” The man shook his head doubtfully, and finally said: “I don’t know about that. You see, I didn’t think anything was wrong then, and I wasn’t stagging him off for anything. If he was dressed just the same maybe I would, but I wouldn’t want to swear to it.” He thought a little while, and then said: “He was about as tall as him,” he pointed to Chick. Then he went on: “Seems to me, as he went across the street with his back to me, he had a trick of hitching up his right shoulder.” “How hitching it up?” asked Chick. “It was more than that—it was a kind of a jerk.” “Is that all you can tell us?” asked Nick. “It is all that I can think of now.” “If we should want you to go with us some time, where could we find you?” asked Nick. “You can find me at the stable most any time, and I’ll go with you whenever you want me to.” “What you have already told us, Moran,” said Nick, “is very important. It has settled one question that we were in great doubt about.” The two detectives turned away, and, as they walked off in the direction of the Constant house, Nick said: “Chick, luck’s with us.” “Nick Carter’s luck,” Chick said, with a laugh. “It’s luck, whosever it is,” said Nick, “for we might have hunted a long time before we got such direct evidence of the correctness of our theory, that the man entered that coach when it stood in front of the dressmaker’s.” “I suppose that we must assume that he did enter there,” said Chick, “but we are weak on that evidence.” “We have direct evidence as to how he left the coach after the murder,” said Nick. “I think we can safely assume that there is where he did enter the coach. However, there is something for you to do, and that is to go down into that neighborhood and see if you can establish the fact for a certainty that he did enter there.” “Then I had better do it without loss of time,” said Chick. “I will go right away.” Thus it was that the detectives separated at that point. CHAPTER XIV. A CHANGE OF FRONT. Patsy had made his way to the Madison Square Garden at once, and presented his letter to the prominent banker. “I should think,” said the banker, as he folded up the letter, after reading it, “that Mr. Carter would devote his energies rather to finding out who killed Mrs. Constant than to finding out who poisoned her dogs.” “Oh, Mrs. Constant is all right,” replied Patsy. “She wasn’t killed.” “Not killed?” replied the banker. “The papers said so.” “All a mistake,” said Patsy. “Mrs. Constant is well, though she ain’t happy, for the reason that it was her sister who was killed.”