A minute examination failed to reveal any marks upon the clothing which
might assist in establishing the woman's identity.

Nick then left the restaurant, taking Gaspard with him. Inspector
Mclaughlin's men were by this time on hand, and they took charge of the
house, under Nick's direction.

At seven o'clock in the morning Nick received a message from Patsy, who
had been directed to find the cabman in whose cab Corbut had fled.

Patsy had located the cabman at his home on West Thirty-second street.
The man's name was Harrigan.

Nick took Gaspard with him and went to the house where Harrigan boarded.

"I got on to him easy enough," said Patsy, whom they found outside the
house. "I found the policeman who was on that beat last night, and got
him to give me a list of all the night-hawks he'd seen around there up
to eight o'clock of the evening.

"Then I began to chase up the fellows on that list. The second man put
me on to Harrigan. He remembered seeing him get the job, but couldn't
tell what sort of a man hired him.

"I guess there's no doubt that he's the man, but I haven't questioned
him yet. He's in there asleep."

Nick passed himself off as a friend of Harrigan's, and was directed with
Patsy to the man's room.

They went in without being invited, after having tried in vain to get
an answer to their pounding on his door.

The cabman was snoring in a heavy slumber.

"From what I heard," said Patsy, "Harrigan had a very large skate on
last night. He's sleeping it off."

Nick shook the man unmercifully, and at last he sat up in bed.

"What t' 'ell?" said he, looking about him wildly. "Who are youse, an'
wha's the row?"

As the quickest way to sober the man, Nick showed his shield. It acted
like a cold shower-bath.

"Say, what was it I done?" gasped Harrigan. "S' help me, I dunno nothing
about it. I had a load on me last night, an' I ain't responsible."

Patsy laughed.

"There's no charge against you," said Nick; "I only want to ask you a
few questions."

Harrigan sank back on the pillow with a gasp of relief.

"Gimme that water-pitcher," he said; "me t'roat's full o' cobwebs."

He drank about a quart of water, and then declared himself ready for a
cross-examination. Nick sized him up for a decent sort of fellow; and
saw no reason to doubt that he was telling the truth when he answered
the questions that were put to him.

It appeared that he had been on Seventh avenue, near the French
restau