“Did you know the mother of the child?” demanded Dick, turning to Mrs. McGuire, who, out of respect to her liege lord, had been silent thus far. “Well, no, sir, I can’t say I did know her. Accordin to my notion, she didn’t mean nobody should know her.” “How came she in your house?” “I’ll tell you all about it if you want me to; though I didn’t think there was go’n to be any fuss about it.” “No fuss at all, Mrs. McGuire. If the woman was a stranger to you, how came she in your house?” “I’ll tell you. I used to be a nuss over to Newington, and some folks there know I keep house over here. Well, about a week ago a man come over here to know if I would take in a woman that was goin to be sick, and not say anything about it, for a pooty good price. Well, we are poor folks, and don’t make much, nohow; so I wan’t much behindhand makin a bargain. The woman come with another woman, and both on ’em staid here till this forenoon. The child was born night afore last. We didn’t cal’late to have no doctor, but the woman was awful sick, and I sent my husband over to the Port arter Dr. Bilks. He got here about half arter ’leven, and staid till nigh on to two o’clock in the mornin.” “Where is the child now?” “The child died before mornin, and I reckon the mother wan’t very sorry; for she spunked up right off, and got smart enough to go off this forenoon.” “The child died--did it?” “Why, yes; that’s what I said.” “Was it a boy or a girl?” “A boy,” replied Mrs. McGuire, with some hesitation. “You are sure it was a boy?” asked Dick, quietly. “Well, I don’t just know whether it was a boy or not. I wan’t round much. I was seein’ to things in the kitchen.” “You think it was a boy--do you?” “I shouldn’t want to say I do think so: it may ’a been a gal; I ain’t sure it wan’t a gal. The fact on’t is, the child wan’t much account. Of course I know’d all the time that things wan’t right.” “The child died, you say,” continued Dick. “Yes; I cal’late the child was dead afore Dr. Bilks got back to the Port.” “Very likely. What did you do with the body?” “That’s where the shoe pinches,” said the woman, with a sickly smile. Dick Birch was of the opinion that the shoe might pinch here, if anywhere. “Can’t you tell?” “I can, but I don’t want to.” “Why not?” “You’ve come here to git us into trouble.” “I have not, Mrs. McGuire.” “If we say anything you will git us into a scrape.” “Don’t say the firsht woord about it, Mistress McGuire,” interposed her husband, solemnly. “I don’t see that I can say anything,” added the wife. “Of course the body was buried.” “Av coorse,” replied Sandy, who seemed to be disposed to manage the difficult part of the case himself. “And you buried it?” “Ish’t me? Sorra one woord I’ll say about it.” “How much did you get for this business?” asked Dick, finding that the man would be obstinate. “A hundr’d dollars,” replied the woman. “Have you the money?” “To be sure I have,” said Sandy.