Krafft was just going to bed—he always retired early—when he was called to the door by Mex Ryan. Mex had never come to his house before. He was a shoulder striker and a thug; but he had one sure streak of loyalty in that nothing could ever induce him to go back on a pal. For various reasons he considered Krafft a pal. He was very much troubled.
"Look here, boss," he said to Krafft, "It just come to my mind a while ago: what was the name of that bloke you told me to keep off'n? The Cora trial man, I mean."
Krafft recalled the circumstance, and named Keith.
Mex slapped his head.
"That's right! It come to me afterward. Well, there's dirty work with his wife. That's where I see the name, on the outside of the note. I just give her a fake letter that says her husband is shot, and she's to go to him."
"How did he know what the letter said?" interjected Keith at this point.
"He'd read anything given him, of course. Mex knew the letter was
false. I came up to find your house. I didn't know where you lived, so
I stopped at John Sherwood's to inquire. Mrs. Sherwood was home alone.
She came with me."
"Where did this letter say I was supposed to be?" asked Keith,
"Jake's Place."
"My God!" cried Keith, and leaped for the door. At the same instant
Mrs. Sherwood's voice was heard from the darkness.