CHAPTER XXXVII. 

MARTIN IS TRAPPED. 

Mickety at once went off to do as Ralph had requested. He was rather doubtful about a policeman listening to his tale, but he resolved to do his best. 

In the meantime Ralph inspected the house, and wondered what sort of place it was, and what had brought Martin there. His inspection ended in disappointment, for nothing came to light. 

Presently, however, a young girl came out of the basement of the house with a pitcher in her hand. She was evidently a servant girl. A milkman drove up, and from him she purchased a quart of milk. 

Before she could return to the house, Ralph touched her on the arm. 

"Excuse me, but I believe you live in that house," he said, pleasantly. 

"I works there, sur," said the girl, in a strong Irish accent. 

"Will you kindly tell me who lives there?" 

"Mr. Martin Thomas, sur." 

Ralph stared at this bit of information. Martin Thomas and the man he was after were most likely the same individual. 

"Did he just come in?" 

"Yis, sur." 

"He lives there alone, does he?" 

"Oh, no, sur. There's another family occupying the house, but they are away for the summer, sur." 

"Oh. I see. Thank you." 

"Did you wish to see Mr. Thomas, sur?" 

"Is he busy?" 

"He said he was going away, sur. He's at work packing up some things, I believe." 

"Then I won't bother him. It isn't likely that he would want to buy a new History of the United States, is it?" 
What did he ask her?
I believe you live in that house