“Much obleeged to yu, mister,” said Harry, profusely. “I kin see yu are a gentleman. An’ yu kin bet Jim Simpson won’t fergit to make it up with yu.”
“That’s all right,” growled the asylum keeper. “Maybe you won’t like your room when you find out it’s next to a madman’s cell.”
“I kin stand it if yu can,” replied Harry.
“What’s that?”
“I say that anything is a durned sight better than freezing to death out in this tarnal snow.”
“Oh, I see! Well, come on, gentlemen, there’s business for us to do. Look here, you jays, you’re not lying to me about those two detec—I mean men in the sleigh? They really went back to Lexington?”
“Dead sure, boss! They couldn’t git through.”
“Thet is about right,” said Yan’s voice from an open door in the building. “I know I had the start an’ a half hour afterwards I couldn’t have got through myself.”
This ended the confab.
Isaac, the bull-faced keeper, led the detectives across the snow-covered yard to a wing of the asylum which was dark and looked cheerless and grim enough with its iron-barred windows.