Detective and mystery stories; Wise, Pennington (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Oh, well,” she shrugged her shoulders pettishly, for she was the sort
of woman who loved innuendo better than statement. “I don’t know the
girls, of course, I’m not in that class of society, but he did have
gay looking girls coming to his apartment now and then.”
“Every day?” Belknap looked at her sharply.
“Oh, my land, no, not every day. Just now and then?”
“Every other day?”
“No,” pettishly.
“Maybe once a week?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, you saw one, once——”
Mrs Mansfield laughed out.
“That’s it, Mr Belknap,” she said. “How you do pin me down. Well, all
I can swear to is one time I did see a fly little piece of baggage go
in at his door.”
“Day or night?”
“Daytime.” Mrs Mansfield spoke aggrievedly, as if all the zest had
been taken out of her news.
“Humph! And she might have been his lawyer’s stenographer, with an
important paper.”
“She might not!” Mrs Mansfield declined to lose her last shred of
excitement. “Stenographers are flippy enough, Lord knows! But this
little snipjack, now, she was a real little vamp!”
“You don’t know her?”
“My land! I guess I don’t! I’m a respectable married woman——”
“And probably she is a respectable unmarried woman——”
“Coming to see a man in his apartment?”
“Well, until we know the circumstances we can’t judge her. I say,
Prescott, get that photograph, will you. You know, the——”
“I know,” and Prescott went back across the hall. He returned with the
picture of the girl Kelly had called Ivy Hayes.
“This the lady?”
“That’s the one,” said Mrs Mansfield, drawing away from it, “but
she’s no lady.”
“Oh, come, now, you don’t know her. She’s a little moving picture
actress. She may have had business with Mr Gleason.”
“She may have!” and the disdainful lady sniffed. “But it’s none of
_my_ business, and I don’t care to discuss her.”
“You say you saw her go in there, yesterday?”
“Good land, no! I didn’t say yesterday! I said, one day.”
“All right, I’m glad you told us about it. It might mean something and
it might not.”
“Of course, it means something!” Mrs Mansfield didn’t want her news
scorned as naught. “An actress calling on a man like that—of course
it means something!”
“If it does we’ll find it out,” Belknap said. “You don’t think this
little thing shot Gleason, do you?”
“I don’t know why she couldn’t. Little women have done such deeds.”
“So they have. Now, you’ve nothing more to tell us?”
But though Mrs Mansfield said quite a bit more, she had really nothing
more to tell them that they wanted to hear, and they got away, though
with some difficulty, for the lady was of a garrulous type.
To the floor above Belknap went, Prescott returning to the Gleason
rooms to look about.
The apartment above McIlvaine’s was occupied by a spinster named Adams
who was, as the attorney deduced, from New England.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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