“A face, was it, boy?”
“Yes; the face of the man who killed Mother Flintstone!”
“Then it’s not far off.”
With this the stranger ran out of the place, and Billy heard him in the narrow court beyond.
“In the name of Satan, who is he?” ejaculated the boy, while he waited for the man’s return.
His question was followed by a sharp report, and in a second the boy was outside.
He smelled powder the moment he opened the door, and then a human figure fell at his feet.
Billy sprang back with a cry and heard a half-suppressed oath and flying footsteps.
“Say, boy,” said a voice, as the little fellow stooped over a prostrate man on the bricks.
“Did you see him?”