“You may. Mr. John Garthorne is all wrong, I think.”
“Wrong?”
I had another idea.
“Where does he live?”
She gave me an O’Farrell Street number.
“The Glenway Apartments?”
“I think so.” She was looking at me without any affectation at all. “Will you please explain?”
“One more question and I will. Do you know a Chinese named Chang Li Ching?”
“No.”
“All right. I’ll tell you about Garthorne. So far I’ve run into two angles on this trouble of yours. One of them has to do with this Chang Li Ching in Chinatown, and one with an ex-convict named Conyers. This John Garthorne was in Chinatown today. I saw him coming out of a cellar that probably connects with Chang Li Ching’s house. The ex-convict Conyers visited the building where Garthorne lives, early this afternoon.”
Her mouth popped open and then shut.
“That is absurd!” she snapped. “I have known Mr. Garthorne for some time, and—”
“Exactly how long?”
“A long—several months.”