“Did anyone else use the elevator?”
“Sometimes, yes. I’ve seen a few people go up or come down,—but mostly it was the boss himself.”
“Did he go up in it yesterday?”
“Not that I seen. But, of course, he may have done so.”
“When did he last come into his offices before—before he disappeared?”
“When did he, Jenny? Speak up, girl, and tell the Chief all you know about it.”
Although Martin had not addressed Jenny, he turned to her now as if inviting her story.
And Jenny bridled, shook out her feather boa, made a futile attempt to pull her brief skirt a trifle farther down toward a silk-stockinged ankle, and began:
“Of course, when Mr. Gately went into his office he most gen’ally went in the middle door, right into his pers’nal office. He didn’t go through my room. And, so, yest’day, he went in the middle door, but right away, almost, he opened my door and stuck his head in, and says, ‘Don’t let anybody in to see me this afternoon, unless you come and ask me first.’”
“Wasn’t this a general rule?”