“Would you folks know him if you saw him again?”
“Yes,” they agreed.
I cleared a space on the bedside table and got out a pencil and sheet of paper.
“I want a list of what he got, with as thorough a description of each piece as possible, and the price you paid for it, where you bought it, and when.”
I got the list half an hour later.
“Do you know the number of Miss Eveleth’s apartment?” I asked as I reached for my hat.
“702, two floors above.”
I went up there and rang the bell. The door was opened by a girl of twenty-something, whose nose was hidden under adhesive tape. She had nice clear hazel eyes, dark hair, and outdoor athletics written all over her.
“Miss Eveleth?”
“Yes.”
“I’m from the insurance company that insured the Coplin’s jewelry, and I’m looking for information about the robbery.”
She touched her bandaged nose and smiled ruefully.
“This is some of my information.”
“How did it happen?”
“A penalty of femininity—I forgot to mind my own business. But what you want, I suppose, is what I know about the scoundrel. The doorbell