The words were spoken in a tone calculated to reach the officer's ears alone, while the little crowd which had now gathered around stood staring wonderingly on.
"Very good, Mr. Hook," replied the policeman, nervously. "I just went inside the market for a moment to——"
"Never mind that," returned the detective, quickly. "I have no interest in your private affairs, and you need have no fear of me. Now, tell me quick, what sort of a place is that saloon before us—the Donegal Shades? Who is this Slattery? What sort of shop does he keep?"
Evidently a most law-abiding establishment, so far as all outward appearance was concerned, for the interior of the saloon, a moment ago ablaze with light behind the curtains, was now totally dark, showing no signs of life within at all.
"Bad lot in there," replied the officer, briefly.
"Do you know them?"
"Some of them."
"Anything going on outside of regular business?"
"I think so, but I never could get a charge agin 'em. There's a mighty crooked lot goes in there, Mr. Hook; river thieves and confidence men, to say nothing of a whole lot of dirty loafers always hanging round inside."
"Just so," answered the detective, coolly. "Now go on with your basket. Tell the captain I'll be around in a little while."