"But not enough to wake yon poor crayter, Mrs. O'Brien!" exclaimed Slattery, grimly, pointing at the same time toward the body of the woman on the floor. "D'ye know what's been goin' on up here? Poor Mrs. Marley's after bein' murdered."
"Holy Vargin! an' is it murther that's been done?" cried the woman, who, having caught sight of the body, now sprang toward the door, extending her hands before her, as if to ward off the sight.
"Help! Murder! Perlice! Och, an' it's bad luck that's overtook me respictible house!"
Before the hand of the detective could be raised to stay her, the frightened creature had rushed down the stairs, through the alley and out into the street, causing the air to ring with her cries of murder and her shouts for the police.
"It's the woman down stairs," said Slattery aghast. "Sure, an' it's the whole worruld we'll have in to join us now."
Caleb Hook made no reply.
He cared little, in fact, who entered this chamber of death and who stayed away.
He could not be everywhere, and had no desire to take charge of the case.
The woman was dead, and her knowledge concerning the robbery of the Webster Bank must remain forever untold.
Nevertheless, he realized fully that between the robbery and this murder there was unquestionably a connecting link.