I stopped trying to guess, and got on with my probing.
“And you wouldn’t answer the phone either?”
“It didn’t ring—or not enough to awaken me.”
I chuckled—an artificial chuckle—because central could have been ringing the wrong number. However …
“Miss Kenbrook,” I lied, “your phone rang at 2:30 and at 2:40 that morning. And your doorbell rang almost continually from about 2:50 until after 3:00.”
“Perhaps,” she said; “but I wonder who’d be trying to get me at that hour.”
“You didn’t hear either?”
“No.”
“But you were here?”
“Yes—who was it?” carelessly.
“Get your hat,” I bluffed, “and I’ll show them to you down at headquarters.”
She glanced down at the green gown and walked toward an open bedroom door.
“I suppose I’d better get a cloak, too,” she said.
“Yes,” I advised her; “and bring your toothbrush.”
She turned around then and looked at me, and for a moment it seemed that some sort of expression—surprise maybe—was about to come into