Dan Rolff let me in when I rang the girl’s bell. He looked and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the night before. Dinah Brand came into the hall to help me off with my overcoat. She had on a tan woolen dress with a two-inch rip in one shoulder seam.

She took me into the living room. She sat on the Chesterfield beside me and said:

“I’m going to ask you to do something for me. You like me enough, don’t you?”

I admitted that. She counted the knuckles of my left hand with a warm forefinger and explained: