"Yep, he sneaked."
"Why didn't you tell anyone of this before?"
"Nobody asked me."
"And he ain't got no use for Mrs. Wilson, nor she for him," supplemented the coroner. "But I thought you ought to know."
"Would you know the man again if you should see him?" Garrison inquired.
"Sure."
"Do you know where he went when he left the house, or yard? Did you follow him at all?"
"No, the night-walkers was too thick."
Garrison knew the lay of the yard at Mrs. Wilson's. He knew the room. There was no particular reason for visiting the scene again. There was nothing, in fact, to do at all except to visit the dealer in New York who had sold the cigars to Dorothy, and hope for news of Foster Durgin or the speedy arrival of the photograph of Cleave, which the old man in Rockdale had promised. He asked one more question.
"Was he young or old?"