“The old party is a left-over in the coroner’s office, of many years’ standing,” said the detective.  “He knows the ropes and puts the newly elected ones on to the points of the game.”

Stillman finally turned; there was an added importance in his manner, and his nervousness had also increased.

“Mr. Osborne,” said he, “please let us have what facts the police have gathered.”

“That won’t take long,” said Osborne.  “Just before daylight—­three o’clock, I think she said—­the woman whom Hume employed to scrub the passage-way and stairs got here.  She has almost a dozen such jobs in the neighborhood, and as she must have them all done before business begins, she’s compelled to get at it early.  She has a key to the street door; so she let herself in, came up these stairs and started for the far end of the hall, where there is a water tap.  She didn’t notice anything unusual until she returned with her pail filled; then she saw this door,” pointing to that of the store room, “standing open.”

“I see,” said Mr. Stillman; and he gazed very hard at the door.

“Hume, according to the scrub-woman’s story,” resumed the big man, “was a queer kind of a chap.  You didn’t always know just how to take him.  He’s lapped up a good bit of booze first and last and sometimes he’s come home pretty well settled.  So when the woman sees the door open, this is the first thing that enters her mind.  But to make sure, she goes into the room and calls him by name.  The room’s dark and there’s just a touch of daylight coming in through the open door leading into the front room.  So as there was no answer, she takes a peep in there and sees him on the floor.”

“And is that all she can tell?”

“Yes; except that she bolted down the stairs in a hurry, met Paulson here,” with a nod to the policeman, who had now discarded his cigar, “and told him what she had seen.”

“What is her name and address?”

Osborne consulted a note book.

“Mrs. Dwyer, 71 Cormant Street,” read he.

“Please make a note of that,” said Stillman to his clerk.  “And send for her later in the day.”  Then turning once more to Osborne, he continued.  “Before doing anything else we will endeavor to find out how the criminal gained an entrance.”

“That’s the way with these Johnnie Newcomers,” grumbled Osborne as Stillman turned once more to his aide.  “They want to do it all.  Why don’t he go in, look at the body and leave the police business to the police.”

“Too much earnestness may have its drawbacks,” said Ashton-Kirk, “but it is to be preferred to the perfunctory methods of the accustomed official, for all.”

“From your angle, maybe so,” said Osborne with a frown; “but not from ours.”

Stillman began rubbing his palms together with what was intended to be business-like briskness; he stepped up and down the dark hall, peering right and left.  But for all his assumption of confidence, his nervousness was very apparent.