On the way downstairs the detective inspected the steps, but he found nothing which would throw any light upon the mystery. There were no tracks, except those in the snow on the roof. The leading question in his mind was how the murderer had entered the house.
After he had returned to the barroom he called the bartender aside and asked:
“Do you remember if any one came in after the old man retired?”
“Yes, I do, now that I come to think of it,” the bartender exclaimed, with considerable animation. “A tall man entered just as the old man left the room. He wore a long ulster and a slouch hat.
“This man, sir, stepped up to the bar and called for whisky, which I served to him. He took a seat at a table near the hall door.
“I was busy supplying the orders to the other customers and I did not pay any attention to him.
“When I came to close up he was gone.
“When he went out, I do not know; but he may have left while I was serving drinks at some one of the tables.”
“Would you know the man if you should see him again?” inquired the detective.
“I cannot tell whether I would or not.”