Mrs. Enderby nodded, and began to speak with obvious reluctance.
“Yes—I did see her—but not before I talked with Sir Frederic. I told him the truth. I hadn’t seen her then—that is, I had seen her, but I didn’t notice—one doesn’t, you know—”
“But you noticed later.”
“Yes—on our way home. Going down in the elevator. I got a good look at her then, and that was when I realized it. The elevator girl in the Kirk Building night before last was Jennie Jerome.”
X
The Letter from London
Captain Flannery got up and took a turn about the room. He was a simple man and the look on his face suggested that the complexities of his calling were growing irksome. He stopped in front of Eileen Enderby.
“So—the elevator girl in the Kirk Building was Jennie Jerome? Then you lied a few minutes ago when you told Miss Morrow you hadn’t seen her?”
“You can’t hold that against her,” Enderby protested. “She’s come back of her own free will to tell you the truth.”
“But why didn’t she tell it in the first place?”
“One doesn’t care to become involved in a matter of this sort. That’s only natural.”
“All right, all right.” Flannery turned back to Mrs. Enderby. “You say you recognized this girl when you were going down in the elevator, on your way home after the dinner? And you let her see that you recognized her?”
“Oh, yes. I cried out in surprise: ‘Jennie! Jennie Jerome! What are you doing here?’ ”
“You saw what she was doing, didn’t you?”
“It was just one of those questions—it didn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah. And what did she say?”
“She just smiled quietly and said: ‘Hello, Eileen. I was wondering if you’d know me.’ ”
“Then what?”
“There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask of course. Why she ran away that time—where she had been—But she wouldn’t answer, she just shook her head, still smiling, and said maybe some other time she’d tell me everything. And then she asked me if I’d do this—this favor for her.”
“You mean, keep still about the fact that you’d seen her?”
“Yes. She said she’d done nothing wrong, but that if the story about how she left New York came out it might create a lot of suspicion—”
“According to your husband, you made no promise?” Flannery said.
“No, I didn’t. Under ordinary conditions, of course, I’d have promised at once. But I thought of Sir Frederic’s murder, and it seemed to me a very serious thing she was asking. So I just said I’d think it over and let her know when I saw her again.”
“And have you seen her again?”
“No, I haven’t. It was all so strange. I hardly knew what to do.”
“Well, you’d better keep away from her,” Flannery suggested.
“I’ll keep away from her all right. I feel as though I’d betrayed her.” Eileen Enderby glanced accusingly at her husband.
“You were not in her debt,” said Enderby. “Lying’s a dangerous business in a matter of this kind.”
“You’re lucky, Mrs. Enderby,” said the Captain. “You’ve got a sensible husband. Just listen to him, and you’ll be OK. I guess that’s all now. You can go. Only keep this to yourself.”
“I’ll certainly do that,” the woman assured him. She rose.
“If I want you again, I’ll let you know,” Flannery added.
Chan opened the door for her. “May I be permitted respectful inquiry,” he ventured. “The beautiful garment marked by iron rust stains—it was not ruined beyond reclaim?”
“Oh, not at all,” she answered. She paused, as though she felt that the matter called for an explanation. “When I saw that man on the fire-escape I became so excited I leaned against the garden railing. It was dripping with fog. Careless of me, wasn’t it?”
“In moment of stress, how easy to slip into careless act,” returned Chan. Bowing low, he closed the door after the Enderbys.
“Well,” said Flannery, “I guess we’re getting somewhere at last. Though if you ask me where, I can’t tell you. Anyhow, we know that Sir Frederic was looking for Jennie Jerome the night he was killed, and that Jennie Jerome was running an elevator just outside his door. By heaven, I’ve a notion to lock her up right now.”
“But you haven’t anything against her,” Miss Morrow objected. “You know that.”
“No, I haven’t. However, the newspapers are howling for an arrest. They always are. I could give ’em Jennie Jerome—a pretty girl—they’d eat it up. Then, if nothing else breaks against her, I could let her off, sort of quiet.”
“Such tactics are beneath you, Captain,” Miss Morrow said. “I trust that when we make an arrest, it will be based on something more tangible than any evidence we’ve got so far. Are you with me, Mr. Chan?”
“Undubitably,” Chan replied. He glanced up at the frowning face of the Captain. “If I may make humble suggestion—”
“Of course,” agreed Miss Morrow.
But Chan, it seemed, changed his mind. He kept his humble suggestion to himself. “Patience,” he finished lamely, “always brightest plan in these matters. Acting as champion of that lovely virtue, I have fought many fierce battles. American has always the urge to leap too quick. How well it was said, retire a step and you have the advantage.”
“But these newspaper men—” protested the Captain.
“I do not wish to infest the picture,” Chan smiled, “but I would like to refer to my own habit in similar situation. When newspapers rage, I put nice roll of cotton in the ears. Simmered down to truth, I am responsible party, not newspaper reporter. I tell him with exquisite politeness to fade off and hush down.”
“A good plan,” laughed Miss Morrow. She turned to Barry Kirk. “By the way, do you know anything about this elevator girl? Grace Lane was, I believe, the name she gave the other night.”
Kirk shook his head. “Not a thing. Except that she’s the prettiest girl we’ve ever employed in the building. I’d noticed that, of course.”
“I rather thought you had,” Miss Morrow said.
“Lady, I’m not blind,” he
