“You mean he entered the apartment house?”
“Yes.”
“How did he get in?”
“Somebody in my apartment pushed the buzzer for him.”
“And what did you do?”
“Up to that time I’d thought Paul Nostrander had taken my purse so that I wouldn’t have any money, and so he could go through it and-well, see if there was anything in there, a diary, or perhaps a letter from you, or something of that sort.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on her. “And after you heard the buzzer sound?”
“Then I knew why he’d really taken it. He d gone up to my apartment, let himself in with my key, and was waiting up there.”
“A delicate approach,” I said.
“It wasn’t entirely that,” she said. “Of course that was part of it. The other part was that he d been accusing me all evening of being intimate with someone You see, the way I’d disappeared had made him feel that way. He’d advertised for me in the paper. A personal ad that had run for almost two years.”