"Pardon my interrupting, Mr. Cleaver," interposed Vance. "But what made you think some one else was there?"
The man hesitated.
"Was it," prompted Vance, "because you had telephoned to Miss Odell a little while before, and had been answered by a man's voice?"
Cleaver nodded slowly. "I can't see any particular point in denying it. . . . Yes, that's the reason."
"What did this man say to you?"
"Damn little. He said 'Hello,' and when I asked to speak to Miss Odell, he informed me she wasn't in, and hung up."
Vance addressed himself to Markham.
"That, I think, explains Jessup's report of the brief phone call to the Odell apartment at twenty minutes to twelve."
"Probably." Markham spoke without interest. He was intent on Cleaver's account of what happened later, and he took up the interrogation at the point where Vance had interrupted.
"You say you listened at the apartment door. What caused you to refrain from ringing?"
"I heard a man's voice inside."
Markham straightened up.
"A man's voice? You're sure?"
"That's what I said." Cleaver was matter of fact about it. "A man's voice. Otherwise I'd have rung the bell."
"Could you identify the voice?"
"Hardly. It was very indistinct; and it sounded a little hoarse. It wasn't any one's voice I was familiar with; but I'd be inclined to say it was the same one that answered me over the phone."
