other "big" murder cases. He would study them later.

He looked up and saw a very fat man standing just outside the door.

"Hello, Overton," he said, without cordiality, and joined him on the
porch.

"I picked out an interesting time to visit you," observed the fat man,
still puffing from the exertion of climbing the Manniston Road hill;
"what with murder and----"

"And I'm going to be frank with you," Bristow put in. "I'm helping the
police a little, and I haven't the time to gossip now. I know you'll
understand----"

"Surely, surely!" said Overton. "I'll come some other time. This sort
of stuff's right in your line. You used to be an authority on it in
Cincinnati, I remember."

He said good-bye and lumbered awkwardly down the steps. He and Bristow
had been good friends in Cincinnati, and he seemed now not at all
offended by the summary dismissal.

The door leading from the kitchen to the dining room opened. Mattie had
returned. Bristow reentered the house.

"Well?" he said in the low, kindly tone he used in speaking to her.

"I foun' Lucy Thomas, Mistuh Bristow," she said, breathless and
indignant. "She is sho' one sorry nigger. She wuz drunk--layin' out in de
parluh uv dat little house uv her'n. Dead drunk."

"Did you wake her up, Mattie?"

"Yas, suh; but she ain' fit to come do no wuk. Dis ole rotten blockade
whisky dese niggers drink jes' knocked her out--knocked her out fuh
fair."

"Did she say when she got drunk?"

"Las' night, suh, late, wid dat Perry. You know, Mistuh Bristow; he been
doin' some wuk fuh you."

"Was Perry drunk last night? Did she tell you?"

"He wuz a little lit up, she says, but he warn't drunk. She didn't have
no idea whar he wuz jes' now."

Bristow made no comment on this, and Mattie, turning slowly away from
him, began to mumble something.

"What's that, Mattie?" he asked, only half curious.

"I wuz jes' sayin', Mistuh Bristow, it 'pears to me marveelyus how some
uv dese niggers behave. Dey don' look arter de white folks dey wuk fuh.
Seems to me marveelyus how a lot uv dem keeps out uv jail."

He was curious enough now.

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"It's jes' dis, suh: when I gits ovuh to Lucy's house, de fus' thing I
sees is a key layin' on de flo'. When I ast her 'bout it, she says it
mus' be de key to Number Five--she mus' uv drapped it."

"I see," said Bristow thoughtfully. "Yes, you're right, Mattie. There are
a lot