Darcy made a move as though to go to the rear of the store, whence a side door gave entrance to the stairs leading to the rooms above.
"I'll go with you," said Mulligan, and he shoved himself to an erect posture by forcing his elbows against the showcase on which he had been leaning in a manner to give himself as much rest as possible without sitting down—it was a way he had, acquired from long patrolling of city streets.
"You—you'll go with me?" faltered Darcy.
"Yes, to call the cook. She won't run away," and he nodded toward the dead woman.
"Oh!" There was a world of meaning in Darcy's interjection. "You mean that I—"
"I don't mean nothin'!" broke in Mulligan. "I leave that to the gum-shoe men. Come on, if you want to call what's-her-name!"
It took some little time, by calling and pounding outside her door, to arouse deaf Sallie Page, and longer to make her understand that she was wanted. Then, just as Darcy had expected, she began to cry and moan when she heard her mistress was dead, and refused to come from her room. She had served the owner of the jewelry store for more than a score of years.
"Hark!" exclaimed Mulligan, as he and Darcy came downstairs after having roused Sallie Page. "What's that?"
"Some one is knocking," remarked his companion.
"Maybe it's the men from headquarters."