"That must be it; for I had to move the sofa out a little to get at it."
"And you think, from the fact of having found this handkerchief, that there was a woman with the murderers?"
"I think there may have been. The male portion of humanity, as a general thing, do not go to the extremity of initialing their pocket-handkerchiefs, and few men carry a piece of cambric so fine as this. Then, too, ordinarily, a man is not armed with more than one handkerchief at a time—especially those of the class of citizens that made the Ernst saloon their headquarters. So, speculating on such a basis and also on the fact that all of the seven handkerchiefs might reasonably be called those of females, I think there is little doubt but one woman at least, assisted materially in this murderous work."
"I am inclined to agree with you, George. By the way, did you manage to learn anything more about that trap-door and secret tunnel?"
"Very little. As you didn't want me to explore it when any of the regular force were about, I was obliged to confine myself to questioning such of the widow's patrons and neighbors as I thought might have some information on the subject to impart."
"Well, you found out something from them?"
"Yes, one fellow had a somewhat romantic story to tell. Years ago, he said, when the Sunday liquor-law was so strictly enforced in this city, Mrs. Ernst and her second husband, who was then living, built an immense underground vault in the back-yard, at some distance from the house, and that trap-door opens into a tunnel leading to this vault, which, by the way, is capable of accommodating quite a number of persons.
"The thing was a grand success. There were, of course, strong suspicions that the woman and her last two husbands were violating the law by selling liquor and beer on Sunday, but no evidence of a positive character could be obtained, and the reason was that this great underground chamber was so secluded and so vigilantly guarded that the entrance to it was known to only the best and most reliable customers.
"The thirsty, on a Sunday afternoon or evening, were seen to enter the basement, but all traces of them thereafter for hours were lost. A close watch, and even a personal inspection of the premises, were unavailing, inasmuch as the patrons could not be seen anywhere. They were secreted in the underground vault, indulging in all the liquid nourishment they wanted, while the searchers were vainly peering into this room and that of the basement. A cart-load of ashes, you remember, now partially fills up the entrance to the vault."
"Yes, I remember the ashes, and I have no doubt there is exactly such a vault as your informant describes, and that it was used for the purpose he names; but I am inclined to believe it has been used for other purposes since. Of that, however, hereafter. What more have you to tell me, George?"