Again Spively swallowed hard and wetted his lips.
"It was like this," he began, with effort. "The fella came in and started walking down the hall, and I said to him: 'Miss Odell isn't in.' But he kept on going, and said: 'Oh, well, I'll ring the bell anyway to make sure.' A telephone call came through just then, and I let him go on. He rang the bell and knocked on the door, but of course there wasn't any answer; and pretty soon he came on back and said: 'I guess you were right.' Then he tossed me half a dollar, and went out."
"You actually saw him go out?" There was a note of disappointment in Markham's voice.
"Sure, I saw him go out. He stopped just inside the front door and lit a cigarette. Then he opened the door and turned toward Broadway."
"'One by one the rosy petals fall,'" came Vance's indolent voice. "A most amusin' situation!"
Markham was loath to relinquish his hope in the criminal possibilities of this one caller who had come and gone at half past nine.
"What was this man like?" he asked. "Can you describe him?"
Spively sat up straight, and when he answered, it was with an enthusiasm that showed he had taken special note of the visitor.
"He was good-looking, not so old—maybe thirty. And he had on a full-dress suit and patent-leather pumps, and a pleated silk shirt"
"What, what?" demanded Vance, in simulated unbelief, leaning over the back of the davenport. "A silk shirt with evening dress! Most extr'ordin'ry!"
