“Well, good heavens, they were right where a body would notice them. They were right in his upper bureau drawer, right where I couldn’t help seeing them.”
“Did he leave the bureau drawer open?”
“Well, no; but you know how the dust collects on those handles, and when I was dusting, it pulled the drawer open just a little, so I peeked.”
“An architect doesn’t necessarily have to be an artist.”
“Well, perhaps not, but he certainly should be able to draw the floor plans of this house so it would look — well, professional.”
“The floor plans of this house!”
“That’s what I’m telling you. There was a complete sketch of the basement floor plan with the garages, my darkroom, the shelves, window, stairs, and everything.”
Mrs. Gentrie said, “Well, I should think that would prove he was an architect and was interested in this old architecture.”
Rebecca sniffed. “Like as not he’ll turn out to be snooping for some of these agencies, and a building inspector will show up to tell us that our foundations are defective and that we’re going to have to do a lot of expensive repair work.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, run along in and clean up the room, Rebecca.”