“Do ye hear ’im now? Did ye iver hear the loike o’ that?” cried Mrs. Flanagan. “As if I wouldn’t tell him at onst, if I had it in my power, which it’s sorry I am I haven’t. More’s the pity. But ye’d better have a look at all the boys, and satisfy yerself. Mother o’ Marcy, but this is a bad business. An’ is it to any o’ the lodging houses that ye’ve bin, Mister Wrinch.”
“Yes, we have, but you, being so well acquainted with the town and its people, would be more likely to detect a stranger.”
“Oh, sure you are complimintary,” exclaimed the woman, who rose from the seat, and conducted her visitors to a large shed-looking place, which was one of the dormitories of her establishment.
The detective and his two companions passed through this place, and examined the features of the inmates. Many of them present were well known to both the police-officers, and some were strangers, but there was not one there answering the description of the man.
They returned to the landlady’s private room no wiser than before.
“Shure, didn’t I tell ye that ye couldn’t find the murtherin’ blackguard here. Oh, its careful and particular we are, Misther Wrinch, and small blame to us; haven’t I three childer of my own to look afther, an’ haven’t I known what it is to offind the law? That’s our rason for our pickin’ and choosin’ our lodgers.”
“That will do Biddy—you are a model landlady, I dare say.”
“Faith that I am, mine’s the best managed, ‘padding ken,’ in all Liverpool; it’s kept dacent and sweet, and used by the betherest sort of tramps, and such like, and it’s sorry I am that you can’t find the big ugly blackgurd you are looking for, but if Biddy Flanagan can do ye a good turn, never fear, but she’ll do it. May be you might find the man ye want at the fair.”
“What fair?” inquired Wrench, quickly.
“At Nantwich Hoiring Fair. As your man is in the agricultural line may be he’ll be afther going to the fair.”