“One of your sex.”
“Old or young?”
“An old woman—a ‘fence,’ Clara.”
“Not——”
Bristol Clara stopped and looked away.
“I guess you’ve heard about the crime,” said the detective. “I am on the trail of the murderer of Mother Flintstone.”
“I thought so. Well, the secret may be in that house beyond this partition. Those men have talked about that very crime. I’ve heard them.”
The woman led the detective upstairs and opened a small door in one of the walls.
A dark apartment was disclosed, and she entered, followed by the man at her heels.
“We are now in the other house,” said Clara, laying her hand on the detective’s arm, which she found in the dark. “Here is a stairway which I accidentally discovered last summer, and which I have used on several occasions.”