“H’m, is that so?” thought Patsy, who not only knew Jim Margate personally, but also knew him to be a decidedly bad character. “Margate’s sister, eh? If you knew Nell Margate to be in that house, Mulligan, why didn’t you tip some one to the fact?”
“A dick?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I?” said Mulligan, with a deprecatory shake of his head. “It was no funeral of mine. How could I know why she was there?”
“A crook is always out for crooked work.”
“But I’m not hired to catch them, Garvan, like you,” said Mulligan. “Many a crook has paid me good money. It isn’t up to me to stool-pigeon for the police. I’ve got to shut my eyes and keep my trap closed, or I might get mine for not doing it. I wouldn’t have mentioned this, only I know I might get in wrong from not telling you, since you’ve questioned me about it.”
“Is there anything more you can tell me?” asked Patsy.
“Divil a thing. You’ve got all I can hand you.”
“When did you see Nell Margate leaving the Barker residence?”
“Something like a week ago.”