ght
o'clock, in order to guide him through the squalid labyrinths of the
slums. He found the barrister waiting impatiently for him. The fact is,
Calton had got it into his head that Rosanna Moore was at the bottom of
the whole mystery, and every new piece of evidence he discovered went
to confirm this belief. When Rosanna Moore was dying, she might have
confessed something to Mother Guttersnipe, which would hint at the name
of the murderer, and he had a strong suspicion that the old hag had
received hush-money in order to keep quiet. Several times before Calton
had been on the point of going to her and trying to get the secret out
of her--that is, if she knew it; but now fate appeared to be playing
into his hands, and a voluntary confession was much more likely to be
true than one dragged piecemeal from unwilling lips.

By the time Kilsip made his appearance Calton was in a high state of
excitement.

"I suppose we'd better go at once," he said to Kilsip, as he lit a
cigar. "That old hag may go off at any moment."

"She might," assented Kilsip, doubtfully; "but I wouldn't be a bit
surprised if she pulled through. Some of these old women have nine
lives like a cat."

"Not improbable," retorted Calton, as they passed into the
brilliantly-lighted street; "her nature seemed to me to be essentially
feline. But tell me," he went on, "what's the matter with her--old age?"

"Partly; drink also, I think," answered Kilsip. "Besides, her
surroundings are not very healthy, and her dissipated habits have
pretty well settled her."

"It isn't anything catching, I hope," cried the barrister, with a
shudder, as they passed into the crowd of Bourke Street.

"Don't know, sir, not being a doctor," answered the detective, stolidly.

"Oh!" ejaculated Calton, in dismay.

"It will be all right, sir," said Kilsip, reassuringly; "I've been
there dozens of times, and I'm all right."

"I dare say," retorted the barrister; "but I may go there once and
catch it, whatever it is."

"Take my word, sir, it's nothing worse than old age and drink."

"Has she a doctor?"

"Won't let one come near her--prescribes for herself."

"Gin, I suppose? Humph! Much more unpleasant than the usual run of
medicines."

In a short time they found themselves in Little Bourke Street, and
after traversing a few dark and narrow lanes--by this time they were
more or less familiar to Calton--they found themselves before Mother
Guttersnipe's den.

They climb