His manner was cheerful and disarming, and the janitor was reassured. He seated himself on the edge of a chair near the door of the living room and answered Peter's questions with a volubility which was almost overwhelming. "No know mucha 'bout da ladies," he said, with a characteristic shrug and a nervous grin. "Ver' quiet, ver' nice. Both keep alla to selves. Both speak pleasant to Angelo, no speak mucha. Say 'Nice day, Angelo,' Mees Anne say, ev' morn' she go out buy grub. Dat all. 'Nice day, Angelo.' Da tall, gran' one, Mees Mary, she say, 'Good eve', Angelo,' if see her when she go teatro at night. No see her ver' mucha. No roun' vestabula, me, lika in morn' when Mees Anne come down. Den----" "What does Miss Anne look like, Angelo?" Donald Morris interrupted. He was filled with an intense desire to learn all that was possible about the strange sister whom he had never seen--whom, now, it appeared he would never see if Mary's letter gave the exact fact. "There will be no one left but Anne, and you will never see her. She will see to that." Why would there be no one left but Anne? Where---- "She looka da nice, quiet lady," again the Italian shrug and the gesture of open hands. "Weara da black, ver' plain. No tall an' gran' lika da sist'. She looka lika alla da ladies, only she hava da big, reda mark on face, here, looka lika blood----" "You mean a birthmark?" Clancy broke in hastily. "A conspicuous birthmark?" He exchanged a hopeful glance with Morris. A thing of that sort ought to make it easier to trace her, if it became necessary. "Non capisch da birt'mark," Angelo showed a slightly puzzled face, "but he big reda place alla lika here." He raised a stubby brown hand and passed it across his dark cheek and down on his neck. "Too mucha bad," he added. "Oth' side she awright." "Did she resemble Miss Mary?" asked Morris, eagerly. "Did she look at all like her sister?" "N', no!" The Italian's negation was very emphatic. "Mees Mary tall, lika Madonn', stan' straight," he lifted his square body in the chair, "lika da lil'. See face tru vail lika ange' in cloud, _si_, si. Sometime me lika see no vail. N', no, Ev' time she wear him. Tinka, me, she wear him so peopl' in street not know she great Mees Blake ev'bod' talk 'bout." Morris nodded. "That's true, Angelo. But tell us more about Miss Anne. We know how Miss Mary looked." There was a world of sadness in his voice. "Describe Miss Anne to us. Was she tall or short?" "_Si, si._ Pret' gooda tall," answered the janitor, considering heavily, "but no so ver'. She hanga down, lika dis," drooping slightly forward. "She looka ver' sad alla time. She nev' speak, only, 'Gooda morn', Angelo.' That all. Jus' 'Gooda morn', Angelo'." "How long were the sisters here?" asked Clancy. "Not know for sure. Come two, tree year ago. Soon aft' me taka da job." "So long as that, and you don't know anything more about them?" asked Peter, sharply.