Punctual to his appointment, Kilsip called at Calton’s office at eight 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 climbed the rickety stairs, which groaned and creaked beneath their weight, and found Mother Guttersnipe lying on the bed in the corner. The elfish black-haired child was playing cards with a slatternly-looking girl at a deal table by the faint light of a tallow candle.

They both sprang to their feet as the strangers entered, and the elfish child pushed a broken chair in a sullen manner towards Mr. Calton, while the other girl shuffled into a far corner of the room, and crouched down there like a dog. The noise of their entry awoke the hag from an uneasy slumber into which she had fallen. Sitting up in bed, she huddled the clothes round her. She presented such a gruesome spectacle that involuntarily Calton recoiled. Her white hair was unbound, and hung in tangled masses over her shoulders in snowy profusion. Her face, parched and wrinkled, with the hooked nose, and beady black eyes, like those of a mouse, was poked forward, and her skinny arms, bare to the shoulder, were waving wildly about as she grasped at the bedclothes with her claw-like hands. The square bottle and the broken cup lay beside her, and filling herself a dram, she lapped it up greedily.

The irritant brought on a paroxysm of coughing which lasted until the elfish child shook her well, and took the cup from her.

“Greedy old beast,” muttered this amiable infant, peering into the cup, “ye’d drink the Yarrer dry, I b’lieve.”

“Yah!” muttered the old woman feebly. “Who’s they, Lizer?” she said, shading her eyes with one trembling hand, while she looked at Calton and the detective.

“The perlice cove an’ the swell,” said Lizer, suddenly. “Come to see yer turn up your toes.”

“I ain’t dead yet, ye whelp,” snarled the hag with sudden energy; “an’ if I gits up I’ll turn up yer toes, cuss ye.”

Lizer gave a shrill laugh of disdain, and Kilsip stepped forward.

“None of this,” he said, sharply, taking Lizer by one thin shoulder, and pushing her over to where the other girl was crouching; “stop there till I tell you to move.”

Lizer tossed back her tangled black hair, and was about to make some impudent reply, when the other girl, who was older and wiser, put out her hand, and pulled her down beside her.

Meanwhile, Calton was addressing himself to the old woman in the corner.

“You wanted to see me?” he said gently, for, notwithstanding his repugnance to her, she was, after all, a woman, and dying.

“Yes, cuss ye,” croaked Mother Guttersnipe, lying down, and pulling the greasy bedclothes up to her neck. “You ain’t a parson?” with sudden suspicion.

“No, I am a lawyer.”

“I ain’t a-goin’ to have the cussed parsons a-prowlin’ round ’ere,” growled the old woman, viciously. “I ain’t a-goin’ to die yet, cuss ye; I’m goin’ to get well an’ strong, an’ ’ave a good time of it.”

“I’m afraid you won’t recover,” said Calton, gently. “You had better let me send for a doctor.”

“No, I shan’t,” retorted the hag, aiming a blow at him with all her feeble strength. “I ain’t a-goin’ to have my inside spil’d with salts and senner. I don’t want neither parsons nor doctors, I don’t. I wouldn’t ’ave a lawyer, only I’m a-thinkin’ of makin’ my will, I am.”

“Mind I gits the watch,” yelled Lizer, from the corner. “If you gives it to Sal I’ll tear her eyes out.”

“Silence!” said Kilsip, sharply, and, with a muttered curse, Lizer sat back in her corner.

“Sharper than a serpent’s tooth, she are,” whined the old woman, when quiet was once more restored. “That young devil ’ave fed at my ’ome, an’ now she turns, cuss her.”

“Well — well,” said Calton, rather impatiently, “what is it you wanted to see me about?”

“Don’t be in such a ’urry,” said the hag, with a scowl, “or I’m blamed if I tell you anything, s’elp me.”

She was evidently growing very weak, so Calton turned to Kilsip and told him in a whisper to get a doctor. The detective scribbled a note on some paper, and, giving it to Lizer, ordered her to take it. At this, the other girl arose, and, putting her arm in that of the child’s, they left together.

“Them two young ’usseys gone?” said Mother Guttersnipe. “Right you are, for I don’t want what I’ve got to tell to git into the noospaper, I don’t.”

“And what is it?” asked Calton, bending forward.

The old woman took another drink of gin, and it seemed to put life into her, for she sat up in the bed, and commenced to talk rapidly, as though she were afraid of dying before her secret was told.

“You’ve been ’ere afore?” she said, pointing one skinny finger at Calton, “and you wanted to find out all about ’er; but you didn’t. She wouldn’t let me tell, for she was always a proud jade, a-flouncin’ round while ’er pore mother was a-starvin’.”

“Her mother! Are you Rosanna Moore’s mother?” cried Calton, considerably astonished.

“May I die if I ain’t,” croaked the hag. “‘Er pore father died of drink, cuss ’im, an’ I’m a-follerin’ ’im to the same place in the same way. You weren’t about town in the old days, or you’d a-bin after her, cuss............