"Hoh, we'll get him all right, easy enough," answered the other, with a grand air.
"What? What's that? What did he say?" asked the people on the outskirts of the group. Those in front passed the answer back.
"He says they'll get him all right, easy enough."
The group looked at the policeman admiringly.
"He's skipped to San Jose."
Where the rumor started, and how, no one knew. But every one seemed persuaded that Zerkow had gone to San Jose.
"But what did he kill her for? Was he drunk?"
"No, he was crazy, I tell you — crazy in the head. Thought she was hiding some money from him."
Frenna did a big business all day long. The murder was the one subject of conversation. Little parties were made up in his saloon — parties of twos and threes — to go over and have a look at the outside of the junk shop. Heise was the most important man the length and breadth of Polk Street; almost invariably he accompanied these parties, telling again and again of the part he had played in the affair.
"It was about eleven o'clock. I was standing in front of the shop, when Mrs. McTeague — you know, the dentist's wife — came running across the street," and so on and so on.