Voices came from behind the closed door of the Ballau apartment. De Medici pressed the bell and waited. The door opened slowly. A sound of chattering and laughter struck him.
“Hello,” he bowed to the woman who had admitted him. Jane. He looked curiously at her. For a moment he had failed to recognize her.
“In there, sir,” she said, indicating the crowded library.
“Have they started yet, Jane?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how have you been? I haven’t seen you since the inquest.”
She shook her head. Tears lighted her haggard eyes.
“They’re selling all his things,” she whispered; “all his nice things.”
“Has Miss Ballau been here yet?”
She stared at him.