living by scrubbing, and with a very homely face and figure?”
“That describes her exactly,” admitted Meeks. Juggins rose and put on his hat.
“In fifteen minutes,” he said, “I will return, bringing you her present address.”
Shamrock Jolnes turned pale, but forced a smile.
Within the specified time Juggins returned and consulted a little slip of paper held in his hand.
“Your sister, Mary Snyder,” he announced calmly, “will be found at No. 162 Chilton street. She is living in the back hall bedroom, five flights up. The house is only four blocks from here,” he continued, addressing Meeks. “Suppose you go and verify the statement and then return here. Mr. Jolnes will await you, I dare say.”
Meeks hurried away. In twenty minutes he was back again, with a beaming face.
“She is there and well!” he cried. “Name your fee!”
“Two dollars,” said Juggins.
When Meeks had settled his bill and departed, Shamrock Jolnes stood with his hat in his hand before Juggins.
“If it would not be asking too much,” he stammered—“if you would favour me so far—would you object to———”
“Certainly not,” said Juggins pleasantly. “I will
