"I know all about it," Lawrence said.
"Where is room 256?"
"Ah! I had that room when I first came here, before I could get a suite. It's on the second floor, directly beneath us a couple of stories, with a fire escape running past its principal window."
"Of course there would be a fire escape," said Verbeck. "There are times when fire escapes are handy things. Lawrence, do you know the people who have that room now? I understand a couple of sisters live there—Whaley by name."
"I've seen one of them many times—sour-looking old girl about forty. Freeze you with a glance, and all that sort of thing—one of those women a man always dodges."
"Sure she is about forty?"
"Great Scott, don't I know the sex? Can't I guess a woman's age nine times out of ten? Aren't half the girls in town mad at me now because I always insist on doing it, and telling the truth about my guesses? She's forty, and she's fat—not plump, but fat—and she always looks as if she was ready to bite."
"Well, that description doesn't mean anything in my young life," Verbeck said. "I had hoped for something different. How about the other sister?"
"I've glanced at her a couple of times, but I haven't seen her at all recently. Maybe she's ill."
"What does she look like—that's what I want to know."
"Um!" said Lawrence. "Grace of a gazelle, my boy. Would have made advances, my boy, if the other hadn't frozen me with a glance."
"Hair?"
