“Jane Mayfield,” she answered.
“How long have you worked for Mr. Ballau?”
“Ever since he’s been in New York—about fifteen years, I think.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-four.”
The detective paused as the woman began again to weep. At length he resumed kindly.
“When did you first find out Mr. Ballau was dead?”
“I let Miss Ballau in and went back to the kitchen to finish the sandwiches for the supper and then I heard her scream. I came running out. She was standing in the door screaming that her father had been murdered.”
“Just what did she say?”
“I don’t remember. It was something about her father being murdered.”