Once, indeed, they thought they were on the right track. A woman, of whom they inquired if she had ever seen a man with blue marks on his hands, replied:
“Yes, sure. He lif by me!”
“He lives with you!” exclaimed Larry, thinking, perhaps, he had stumbled upon the wife of the man they sought.
“I means in de same houses,” explained the woman, who was German. “His hands is as blue like de skies. He iss de man vat you vant. His hands is blue as vat nefer vas. He vorks in a place where dey makes bluing for clothes. Ah! sure his hands iss blue, but he iss a goot man!”
“I’m afraid he’s not the man we are after,” said Mr. Newton. “The hands of the man we want are not blue all over, only part blue; a little blue.”
“Ah, den, I knows,” said the woman, with a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“It iss his liddles boy vat you vants. His hands is littler as his fader’s, and dey iss not blue all over; only part blue. Ah, yes, I knows!”
Thanking the woman for her information, which, however, was of no value, Mr. Newton and Larry gave up their quest in that direction.
“We’ll have to start on a fresh trail in the morning,” said Mr. Newton, when he and Larry were eating a modest lunch in a cheap restaurant about twelve o’clock that night.