Don't youse know no better
than that?" This was Keppler, and he welcomed Mr. Dwyer with effusive
courtesy.
The two men showed in the stream of light, and the door closed on
them, leaving the house as it was at first, black and silent, save for
the dripping of the rain and snow from the eaves.
The detective and Gallegher put out the cab's lamps and led the horse
toward a long, low shed in the rear of the yard, which they now
noticed was almost filled with teams of many different makes, from the
Hobson's choice of a livery stable to the brougham of the man about
town.
"No," said Gallegher, as the cabman stopped to hitch the horse beside
the others, "we want it nearest that lower gate. When we newspaper men
leave this place we'll leave it in a hurry, and the man who is nearest
town is likely to get there first. You won't be a-following of no
hearse when you make your return trip."
Gallegher tied the horse to the very gate-post itself, leaving the
gate open and allowing a clear road and a flying start for the
prospective race to Newspaper Row.
The driver disappeared under the shelter of the porch, and Gallegher
and the detective moved off cautiously to the rear of the barn.
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