Lida--for she was that to me at once, although I had never seen her
before--Lida was all sympathy and sweetness. She actually asked me to
go with her to a restaurant and have a real dinner. I could imagine
Alma, had she known! But I excused myself.

"I have to cook something for Mr. Reynolds," I said, "and I'm better
now, anyhow, thank you. Mr. Howell, may I speak to you for a moment?"

He followed me along the back hall, which was dusk.

"I have remembered something that I had forgotten, Mr. Howell," I
said. "On Sunday morning, the Ladleys had a visitor."

"Yes?"

"They had very few visitors."

"I see."

"I did not see him, but--I heard his voice." Mr. Howell did not move,
but I fancied he drew his breath in quickly. "It sounded--it was not
by any chance _you_?"

"I? A newspaper man, who goes to bed at three A.M. on Sunday morning,
up and about at ten!"

"I didn't say what time it was," I said sharply.

But at that moment Lida called from the front hall.