et away! He glanced
again at the latter, and made up his mind. Advancing in a quiet, sidelong
way he had, he laid his hand on the small knob above the lock and quickly
turned it. The door was unlocked and swung under his gentle push. An
alley-way opened before him, leading to what appeared to be another
residence street. He was about to test the truth of this surmise when he
heard a step behind him, and turning, encountered the heavy figure of the
coachman advancing towards him, with a key in his hand.

Zadok was of an easy turn, but he had been sorely tried that day, and his
limit had been reached.

"You snooper!" he bawled. "What do you want here? Won't the run of the
house content ye? Come! I want to lock that door. It's my last duty
before going to bed."

Sweetwater assumed the innocent.

"And I was just going this way. It looks like a short road into town. It
is, isn't it?"

"No! Yes," growled the other. "Whichever it is, it isn't your road
to-night. That's private property, sir. The alley you see, belongs to our
neighbours. No one passes through there but myself and--"

He caught himself in time, with a sullen grunt which may have been the
result of fatigue or of that latent instinct of loyalty which is often
the most difficult obstacle a detective has to encounter.

"And Mr. Ranelagh, I suppose you would say?" was Sweetwater's easy
finish.

No answer; the coachman simply locked the door and put the key in
his pocket.

Sweetwater made no effort to deter him. More than that he desisted from
further questions though he was dying to ask where this key was kept at
night, and whether it had been in its usual place on the evening of the
murder. He had gone far enough, he thought. Another step and he might
rouse this man's suspicion, if not his enmity. But he did not leave the
shadows into which he again receded until he had satisfied himself that
the key went into the stable with the coachman, where it probably
remained for this night, at least.

It was after ten when Sweetwater re-entered the house to say good night
to Hexford. He found him on watch in the upper hall, and the man, Clarke,
below. He had a word with the former:

"What is the purpose of the little door in the wall back of the stable?"

"It connects these grounds with those of the Fultons. The Fultons live on
Huested Street."

"Are the two families intimate?"

"Very. Mr. Cumberland is sweet on the young lady there. She was at the
funeral