"I had one eye on her, sir; I was afraid she was coming into the shop
after me, and my arm was too sore for me to want her to clinch hold on
it again. So when she started to go, I took a step nearer, and saw her
move toward the curbstone and hold up her hand. But it wasn't a car she
was after, for none came by for several minutes."

The fold between Mr. Gryce's eyes perceptibly smoothed out.

"Then it was some cabman or hack-driver she hailed. Were there any empty
coaches about that you saw?"

The boy had not noticed. He had reached the limit of his observations,
and no amount of further questioning could elicit anything more from
him. This Mr. Gryce soon saw, and giving him into the charge of one of
his assistants who was on duty at this place, he proceeded back to the
ill-omened house where the tragedy itself had occurred.

"Any one waiting for me?" he inquired of Styles, who came to the door.

"Yes, sir; a young man; name, Hines. Says he's an electrician."

"That's the man I want. Where is he?"

"In the parlor, sir."

"Good! I'll see him. But don't let any one else in. Anybody upstairs?"

"No, sir, all gone. Shall I go up or stay here?"