He was in profile and didn’t see her, and didn’t hear her, she said, because she wore old soft shoes that made no sound. Just as she caught sight of him she remembered she’d left her duster in the sink closet and went back for it. When she returned to the main corridor he was gone, and she went into the Hudson Electrical Company’s offices, staying there till six-twenty—she noted the time by a nickel clock on one of the desks. She decided to do the Azalea Woods Estates rooms next but on trying the door found it was locked. This didn’t bother her, as she had found it so once or twice before during the past month. She then went down the hall into a rear suite in which she was shut when the suicide occurred. This fixed the fact that Harland had gone straight from his own office, down the stairs on the Broadway side, into the Azalea Woods Estates, and that he or somebody in there had locked the door. Who had let him in? What man had access to these offices? Can you see me as I sat listening to O’Mally and thinking of the fresh guy who’d wanted to take me out to dinner? Lord, I felt queer! And I felt queerer, considerable queerer, when the day after that I got hold of Troop—_and_ information. Wait till I tell you. Mr. Whitney had told me to take my time, there was no rush, and above all things not to raise the ghost of a suspicion in Troop’s mind. So I went about it very foxy, lying low in my little den behind the elevators. But when I’d see Troop, lounging in the door of his car, I’d flash a smile at him and get a good-natured grin back. The evening after O’Mally’d brought in his stuff I thought the time was ready to gather in mine. So after I’d put on my hat and coat I stood loitering by the desk, keeping one eye on the door. Troop came off duty at half-past six, and regular, a few minutes after that, I’d see him sprinting down the hall for the main entrance. As he came in sight I took up my purse, and he, looking in as I knew he would, caught me just right. There I was staring distracted into it and scrabbling round in the inside, pulling out handkerchiefs and samples and buttons and latchkeys. "Hello," says he, drawing up, "you look like you’d lost something." "Oh, Mr. Troop," I answered, "how fortunate you happened along! I _have_ lost something, my carfare. And I ain’t got another cent but a ten-dollar bill. Will you come across with a nickel till tomorrow?" "Sure I will, and more too! Which way do you go?" "Uptown," said I. Neither he nor anyone else in the building knew where I lived or who I was. Miss Morgenthau, temporarily in charge, was all they had on me. "That’s my direction—One Hundred and Fifty-ninth Street, subway." Now I didn’t see myself sleuthing as I hung from a strap in the sub. But in this world you got to grab your chance when it comes, so, "The subway for mine," I said, speaking in a cheerful, unmarried voice, and out we trotted into the street.