"Now then, John, out with the whole business," said Old King Brady, "and let your name come along with the rest."
And the old detective found no reason to regret his bargain.
"Me talkee Chinee to lady now," said the old fellow.
"Right. Go ahead," assented Old King Brady.
The conversation was quite extended.
"Is it important, Alice?" Old King Brady ventured to ask while it was in progress, for it seemed as if they would never come to an end.
"Most important," replied Alice. "You better let me hear all he has to say."
At last she turned and began to translate.
"It seems," she said, "that this old fellow, whose name is Fen Wix, as near as I can make out, although I never heard the last name before, is supposed to be deaf. He is so at times, but there are times when his hearing is perfect. He says that they have taken the boy away up into the Bronx to a cottage on Lorimer's lane, near the ruins of an old fertilizer factory; that is all the description I can get of the place."
"And it happens that I know it," replied Old King Brady. "There was once a fertilizer factory at the foot of Lorimer's lane. It burned some years ago."