Nick lost no time in picking his way through the narrow alley. Even then, he could not at first discover his man. Passing quickly around two of the sheds mentioned, however, he then saw him in a small wooden building near the stone structure described.
The door of it was wide open, and the man was seated on a low stool within, engaged in pulling a quantity of rags from his burlap bag and tossing them upon a rag heap in one corner.
For the first time, in view of all this, Nick began to fear that he had mistaken the man’s identity. This seemed even more probable in that he did not appear disturbed by the approach of the detective, merely looking up with a questioning stare when he paused at the open door.
“How’s the rag business, old man?” Nick inquired, a bit bluntly.
“Bad—vair bad!” was the reply, with a cracked and cackling voice.
“Little doing, eh?”
“Vair liddle. Nodding at all.”
“Is this where you store your stuff?” questioned Nick, stepping inside the low building.
“Ven I have anyding to store.”
“How long have you been here?”