“No. They came here from Denver, intending to stay, but the low altitude doesn’t agree with Mrs. Offord, so they are going back.”
“Are you sure they came from Denver?”
“Well,” she said, “they told me they did.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Only the two of them; they’re young people.”
“Well, how do they impress you?” I asked, trying to get the impression that I thought her a woman of shrewd judgment over.
“They seem to be a very nice young couple. You’d hardly know they were in their apartment most of the time, they are so quiet. I am sorry they can’t stay.”
“Do they go out much?”
“I really don’t know. They have their keys, and unless I should happen to pass them going in or out I’d never see them.”
“Then, as a matter of fact, you couldn’t say whether they stayed away all night some nights or not. Could you?”
She eyed me doubtfully—I was stepping way over my pretext now, but I didn’t think it mattered—and shook her head.
“No, I couldn’t say.”
“They have many visitors?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Offord is not—”
She broke off as a man came in quietly from the street, brushed past me, and started to mount the steps to the second floor.