“There may be after you’ve seen her.”
“How can I see her?”
“You can go to the house.”
“And tell her I know everything?”
“If you like. You could say I told you in confidence—that you’re an old friend of mine.”
“And nothing else?”
“Since you only want to size her up I should think that would be enough.”
She nodded, slowly. “Yes, I think you’re right. Better not give anything away we can keep to ourselves. Now tell me what happened this morning. You haven’t done it yet.”
He told her everything—how he had been waked by hearing someone fumbling with the lock of the door, whether inside or outside the house he couldn’t tell—how he had gone to the head of the stairs and switched on the lower hall light—how she had flung herself against the door as a little gray bird might dash itself against its cage in its passion to escape.