The place was a free-and-easy, and the resort of a good many shady people, but on that particular night it did not seem to enjoy its usual custom. The detective could easily believe that Claude Lamont could have been driven to the free-and-easy after he saw his face in the cab, and now he intended to keep the young fellow in sight. For an hour Carter kept his post, when Claude suddenly arose and looked at his watch. In another moment he spoke to a man near the table and that person nodded. Nick left his seat and kept an eye on the nabob’s son. Claude coolly lit a cigar at the counter and moved toward the street. On the sidewalk he looked both ways and then started off. Carter was at his heels. Lamont walked several squares and then turned up the steps of a well-to-do house. The detective drew back. Soon after the door had been shut a light appeared in the front window. Almost at the same time the door of the adjoining house opened slightly and a face peeped out. “Heavens! Bristol Clara!” cried the detective the moment he spied this face. “Things are playing into my hands better than I deserve. I wonder if she will serve me now.” The door had barely shut ere Carter was there and his ring caused it to open again. There was a slight cry from the woman in the hall, and the detective pushed in and faced her. “You?” cried the woman, falling back. “You said you would never bother me again.” “That’s true, Clara, but this is for the last time. Who is your neighbor?” “Ha! don’t you know?” “If I did I wouldn’t ask you, would I?” “Perhaps not. You want to find out something about them?” “There are two, eh?” “Yes; one just came home.” “Which one, woman?” “The one with the dust.” “The other is the featherless bird, is he?” “Yes, but he’s the coolest one, I’m thinking.” “You don’t live here for nothing, Clara. This is a sort of double house.” “That’s just what it is.” “Then, you know how to see what is going on in the side over there. I want to see, too.” The woman moved across the room and was followed by the detective. “What’s the case now? Tell me that first,” said Bristol Clara, stopping suddenly and turning upon the detective. “Murder.” The woman started. “Is it that bad?” she exclaimed. “Who was the victim--man or woman?” “One of your sex.” “Old or young?” “An old woman--a ‘fence,’ Clara.” “Not----” Bristol Clara stopped and looked away. “I guess you’ve heard about the crime,” said the detective. “I am on the trail of the murderer of Mother Flintstone.” “I thought so. Well, the secret may be in that house beyond this partition. Those men have talked about that very crime. I’ve heard them.” The woman led the detective upstairs and opened a small door in one of the walls. A dark apartment was disclosed, and she entered, followed by the man at her heels.