“And you will? That’s good! Mother Flintstone, eh? Was that her right name?”
“Never heard any other for the old woman.”
The countenance of the stranger seemed to soften and he told the boy to guide him.
They left the house together, the boy in advance, and Billy piloted the man into Mulberry Bend and straight to Hell’s Kitchen.
“It’s a tough place, I see,” was all the comment the stranger made as they entered the locality.
“No place tougher, but I’ve called it home for a long time.”
Into the little old room—the place of sin and crime—Billy led the man and a light was struck.
“Where did she keep her valuables?” asked the man.
“I don’t know.”
“But she had papers, hadn’t she?”