Sweetwater noted the action out of the corner of his eye, but his direct glance was on the woman.

Her back was to him, but she had started as he mentioned the snuggery and made as if to turn; but thought better of it, and bent lower over her books.
"I've struck the spot," he murmured, exultantly to himself.

"This is the place I want and here I'll spend the night; but not to booze my wits away, oh, no." Nevertheless it was a night virtually wasted.

He learned nothing more than what was revealed by that one slight movement on the part of the woman.
Though the man came in and sat with him for an hour, and they drank together out of the flask Sweetwater had brought with him, he was as impervious to all Sweetwater's wiles and as blind to every bait he threw out, as any man the young detective had ever had to do with.

When the door closed on him, and Sweetwater was left to sit out the tedious night alone, it was with small satisfaction to himself, and some regret for his sacrificed bill.