Again the shrug, with eyebrows raised. "How me know mucha 'bout da ladies? Justa da janitor, me." "Well, you must know," said Peter, "what servants they had." "No serv', no serv' 'tall," Angelo replied, quickly. "Two ladies all alone. Tinka dey do alla own work. Tinka, me, Mees Anne do alla work, an' Mees Mary, she sleep late. No see come down till time for she go teatro. Mees Anne she go out ev' morn'----" "All right," Peter interrupted. "Then they had no servants--not even a laundress?" "Me no know--maybe. Somebod' might come for wash. Me no know who, if anybod'. Me no in hall alla time. Only morn' when clean up hall--me liva da basemen'. Door no lock alla da day. If somebod' ringa da bell, me go." "Then you don't know if the ladies had many visitors, or who they were?" asked Peter, with a frown. The conversation seemed not to be eliciting anything useful to his purpose. The janitor shook his head. "See ol' lady come, two, tree, four time. Fine, gran' ol' lady, ver' big, wide----" Angelo thrust out his hands together, palms down, to the full reach of his short arms, and brought them around to his sides in a full, sweeping curve, graphically expressive of great _embonpoint_. "Gran' ol' lady," he repeated, his white teeth flashing in a grin, "she puffa some on alla da stair!" "You don't know her name?" Peter inquired, eagerly. Again the Italian shook his head. "Or where she lives?" "How know, me?" was the reasonable response. "And you've never seen any other friends of theirs?" "No, no. No see anybod'." Peter realized that there was no hope in this direction. He leaned back and thought for a moment, frowning, his keen eyes half closed. Morris shifted, uneasily, in his chair. He felt that they were merely wasting time. He had no ideas as to what should be done in the circumstances, but he felt, agonizingly, that they should be doing something--anything. At last Clancy spoke: "It was easy enough for both the sisters to leave without your seeing them, then, Angelo?" "Oh, _si, si_. Easy--sure!" "And they said nothing to you about going? That seems a little queer to me. Did they ever go away before, and leave the apartment empty, and not tell you to look out for things?" "No tinka dey both go sama time before. Mees Mary, she go in summer time, but Mees Anne stay alla time home." Peter looked around the room. Had they gone away together this time, amicably, as sisters should? The strange phrasing of the letter came back to him, and his eyes rested, in disturbed consideration, on the blood-stained scarf. Suddenly he rose from his chair. "I guess that's about all, Angelo," he said. "I don't suppose you're familiar enough with things here," he glanced again about the disordered room, "to know what's missing."