"Why, boy! Bless me."
"I say," he calls to the porter who brings up his valise, "when that young image boy comes, just send him along to me; I owe him some damages."
A few minutes later, the boy enters the office and deposits his disordered tray upon a chair.
"Come along, you," calls the porter, gruffly. "The gentleman's looking for you."
"Wait a minit, can't ye?" retorts the boy coolly. "I jest want to take account of stock."
He drops on one knee and rearranges his tray with great care and no haste.
"There!" he exclaims, rising at length with a chuckle of satisfaction. "I reckon that big bloke'll be about two fifty out after I call." And he takes up his tray and says to the porter: "Now, then, give us the address."
"Twenty-one," he replies, and the boy ascends the stairs, and unceremoniously opens the door of twenty-one.
The gentleman, who stands at the window, turns quickly at the sound of the opening door, and when it has closed behind the boy, he advances and asks in a low tone:
"How lies the land, George? Is there any news?"
"I'm sorry, sir," replies the boy. "I was faithful to orders—but things have gone wrong."
"How, my boy?"
"The man you call Burrill was murdered last night."
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir, and I might have known who did it. This is the way it went, sir: I kept an eye on all of your men as well as I could, during the day, and kept the widest eye on the short fellow with the tramp lay-out and the ugly face. That was easy, for he lay low all day; so I managed to get around here two or three times during the afternoon, and I found that Mr. Belknap was laying low, too. He staid in and about the hotel all day, and, I think, all the evening. At night the tramp fellow began to show signs of life, and I piped him close. Early in the evening, at dusk, in fact, he went over the river and out toward Mapleton; on the way he met Burrill coming to town, and he faced about and stalked him back. Burrill lounged about a good bit, and then he went to the saloon you pointed out to me; some fellows were waiting there for him, and they got about a table and carried things high, drinking every five minutes. My man kept a close look on the saloon, and seemed uneasy all the time; once he went in, and drank two beers, but he did not venture near Burrill and his party. By and by, I think it must have been ten o'clock or later, Burrill came out from the saloon alone; he was very drunk, and staggered as he walked away. He turned south, and my man came out, as I supposed, to follow. But, instead, he took a short cut to the bridge and crossed over, hiding himself in the low hedge on the other side. He staid there until almost morning, and then he seemed to be disgusted, or discouraged, or both. I staid close by, and tracked him back to his roost! Then I turned in to get a little rest myself. I was out early, and looked first after my man; he was out too, prowling about uneasily. He went to the saloon, and seemed inclined to loaf there a bit; so I went to look after Mr. Belknap. He was not visible, and so I lounged about, as it was too wet to get out my wares. Well, it was not long before my man came out from old 'Forty Rods,' and started out on the south road, and I kept on behind him, and before we had gone far we met a party of excited men, gathered about the mayor's house, and learned that a murder had been committed. We fell in with the crowd, and went out to the place where the body lay. It was in an empty lot, right next to Doctor Heath's cottage; the body was down in an old cellar, and had been hastily buried by the murderers. They say it was Doctor Heath's dog that first discovered the body."
He pauses, and waits for a comment, but none comes; the gentleman stands with hands behind him, and head bent, as if still listening. For a long time, he stands thus, and then takes a turn or two about the room.
"Why, George," he says, at last. "I don't see that you could have done better. It was no part of our plan to have this murder happen, and it bids fair to make us some trouble that we had not counted on. But we are used to that, George. So you think you might have known who did the deed?"
"I might, sir, if I had followed Burrill; I felt all the time that he was the man to watch."
"Oh!" with an odd smile; "your instincts are on the alert. However, you did right in disregarding instinct, and obeying orders. Now then, be off sir, and until you have further notice, keep both your eyes on Mr. Belknap. By the by, when do they hold an inquest?"
"At three o'clock, sir; they want to have Mr. Lamotte there."
"Well! that's all, George; you had better dispose of your traps for the day, and look sharp after Mr. Belknap."
"All right, sir;" and taking up his tray, the little detective goes out, dropping back into his old impudent manner, as the door closes behind him.
"So, Burrill has been killed," soliloquizes the portly gentleman seating himself before his cheery fire. "Well, that goes to show that we detectives don't find out all the tangles. We are lucky oftener than we are shrewd! Now look, I fancied I had the game in my hands, and stepped into town this morning to throw my trump and win, and now, my game is blocked, and a new one opens against me."