As he did so his attention was attracted by two figures advancing toward the saloon from the street above.
One was a youth of twenty or twenty-one, the other a boy, his junior, perhaps, by a year or two.
Both were roughly dressed in cheap, worn clothes, the younger of the pair carrying a bundle of newspapers under his arm.
At the same instant the woman, having seemingly satisfied her curiosity, opened the door and entered the saloon.
"Now, then," muttered the detective, "this has gone as far as it must. Unless I greatly mistake, there's business inside there for me."
He moved rapidly forward as he spoke toward the door of P. Slattery's Shades.
At the same moment the two boys came to a halt beneath a street lamp before the saloon, toward which the younger of the pair pointed with his raised right hand, addressing his companion in hurried words, spoken in too low a tone for the detective to hear.
As he did so, in the light of the lamp above their heads Detective Hook, glancing carelessly at them, obtained a good view of the features of both.
With a smothered exclamation of surprise he came to a sudden halt—stood staring for an instant only at the features of the elder boy.
It was Frank Mansfield who stood before him—the youthful clerk of the Webster Bank, who had so strangely vanished from beside the Trinity church-yard wall.