Mrs. Knapp interrupted me.
“First tell me what has become of Henry Wilton?” she said with sorrow in her voice.
The dreadful scene in the alley flashed before my mind.
“He is dead.”
“Dead! And how?”
“Murdered.”
“I feared so—I was certain, or he would have let me know. You have much to tell me. But first, did he leave no papers in your hands?”
I brought out the slip that bore the blind diagram and the blinder description that accompanied it. Nothing could be made of it in the darkness, so I described it as well as I could.
“We are on the right track,” said Mrs. Knapp. “Oh, why didn't I have that yesterday? But here—we are at the wharf.”
The hack had stopped, and a hand was fumbling at the door.