The passerby was not in a condition where voices from nowhere seemed remarkable. He stopped and, evidently not clear as to just whence this particular voice proceeded, addressed the air immediately before him.
"I can so," he said.
"Then will you, please?"
"Will I what?" responded the passerby, determined that the air should be more specific.
"Will you please tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Is there a Miss Flanagan lives here?"
"There is that. There's three of her, an' wan of thim's a Missus. Good-night."
Awkwardly he touched his hat to the air and stumbled out into the alley.
Violet breathed hard. She had never in her life before been in a tenement-house; but she knew that now she must seek a door through which some ray of light gave hint of waking persons within and, knocking, of them inquire anew. Around her, all the doors were forbidding, so, timidly and with a hand tight upon the shaking rail, she softly climbed the decrepit stairs.