“I know you have, my dear,” said Josie gently, “but tell me, Ben, who is in the apartment next to yours?”
“Th’ain’t nobody. That’s been vacant three months.”
Josie considered, and asked:
“Have you looked in there?”
“No’m! The door is locked.”
Josie slipped from her pocket a skeleton key which she fitted neatly in the lock of the door, and with a sure turn of her strong little wrist she turned the bolt.
“Humph! It looks as though we were none of us safe in our beds,” remarked a sharp-nosed dressmaker, who had the apartment directly across the hall from Ursula’s. “If it’s that easy to open a door.”
“Inside bolts are safer,” said Josie, “but even those are not proof against crooks and their tools.”
The room was dark and dusty. Josie produced a flash light but discovered the electric light had not been turned off since the departure of the former tenant and by touching the proper button she quickly had a flood of light with which to continue her investigations. With no ceremony she closed the door on the curious crowd of lodgers, admitting only Bob Dulaney.
“Stand still, please,” she commanded. “We must examine the tracks in this room. It is covered with the dust of ages but someone has been in it recently. Look! It’s a woman with short rather broad feet and high heels, run down—a tendency to fallen arches I should say because of the heels being worn on the inside. Whoever has been in here has been at this window. See! It is possible to look into Ursula’s living room from this window. Look! She has even scraped the frost from the pane to get a better view. This pane is not so covered with grime as the others. Umhum! She is a little taller than I am, but not much. Rather a chunky party I should say.”