rang in another room. The subordinate he had summoned immediately
appeared with a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Sit down, Wilson," he said. "Those are the depositions, I
suppose."

"Yes," replied the third officer. "I think I've got all there is to
be got out of them, so I sent the people away."

"Did Mary Cregan give evidence?" asked Morton, with a frown that
looked a little heavier than usual.

"No, but her master did," answered the man called Wilson, who had
flat, red hair and a plain, pale face, not without sharpness. "I
think he's hanging round the girl himself and is out against a
rival. There's always some reason of that sort when we are told the
truth about anything. And you bet the other girl told right enough."

"Well, let's hope they'll be some sort of use," remarked Nolan, in a
somewhat hopeless manner, gazing out into the darkness.

"Anything is to the good," said Morton, "that lets us know anything
about him."

"Do we know anything about him?" asked the melancholy Irishman.

"We know one thing about him," said Wilson, "and it's the one thing
that nobody ever knew before. We know where he is."

"Are you sure?" inquired Morton, looking at him sharply.