At the St. Dunstan desk where I returned the keys, little Miss Wallace had a question of her own to put to the clerk.
"How long ago was this building reroofed?" she asked with one of her dark, softly glowing smiles.
"Reroofed?" repeated the puzzled clerk, much more civil to her than he had been to me. "I don't know that it ever was. Certainly not in my time, and I've been here all of four years."
"Not in four years? You're sure?"
"Sure of that, yes, miss. But I can find exactly." The fellow behind the desk was rising with an eagerness to be of service to her, when she cut him short with,
"Thank you. Four years would be exact enough for my purpose." And she followed a puzzled detective and, if I may guess, an equally wondering Worth Gilbert out into the street.