On the way downstairs the detective inspected the steps, but he found nothing which would throw any light upon the mystery. There were no tracks, except those in the snow on the roof. The leading question in his mind was how the murderer had entered the house. After he had returned to the barroom he called the bartender aside and asked: “Do you remember if any one came in after the old man retired?” “Yes, I do, now that I come to think of it,” the bartender exclaimed, with considerable animation. “A tall man entered just as the old man left the room. He wore a long ulster and a slouch hat. “This man, sir, stepped up to the bar and called for whisky, which I served to him. He took a seat at a table near the hall door. “I was busy supplying the orders to the other customers and I did not pay any attention to him. “When I came to close up he was gone. “When he went out, I do not know; but he may have left while I was serving drinks at some one of the tables.” “Would you know the man if you should see him again?” inquired the detective. “I cannot tell whether I would or not.” “Are you able to describe him?” “I should think he was about forty-five or fifty years old. His face was covered with a heavy brown beard. His eyes were black, restless and penetrating. That is all I can remember about him. I didn’t pay particular attention to him.” “Who occupied the room next to the one in which the man was murdered?” “I did.” “What time did you retire?” “It was probably about half past one o’clock. As I was about to enter my room I noticed that a light was burning in the old man’s room. I thought at the time that he had not yet retired, but I didn’t hear him make any noise.” “You were not awakened during the night?” “No.” “Are you a sound sleeper?” “I am.” “What time did you get up?” “About half past eight o’clock.” Carter went out into the back yard. There he found footprints in the snow leading from the foot of the ladder over to a gate in the fence, which opened to an alley running along between the yards into Hudson Street. The trail was plain and distinct. The detective followed it until it ended on Hudson Street. Then he returned to the yard, where he made a search for the weapon, thinking the assassin might have thrown it away. But there was no trace of it to be found. Carter went back into the barroom. The coroner had arrived and was preparing to take charge of the body. The detective hurried across the street to the Cosmopolitan Hotel and asked to see Mr. Wright, the former proprietor of the Red Dragon Inn. Mr. Wright was a portly old gentleman with a large, florid, jovial face, and he received the detective instantly. He listened attentively to what Carter had to say, and he complied with his request to accompany him over to the inn and view the remains of the victim. “If that man spoke the truth,” Mr. Wright remarked, as he and the detective left the hotel, “I may be able to identify the body.” CHAPTER III.