Rebecca, conscious of the impression she had made, modestly lowered her eyes. Her skirt swung slightly as she moved her bony hips from side to side. “Somehow, you really inspire a person to get ideas, Lieutenant.”
Tragg hesitated for only a moment, then he was running up the cellar stairs two at a time, calling Mrs. Gentrie away from the telephone.
“Now look,” he said when he had the three women gathered around him in the basement, “I’m going to take this tin for evidence. But I’m going to copy this message in another new tin, seal it, and place it on the shelf. I don’t want anyone to know anything about what I’ve done. That means anyone. None of you women are to communicate to a soul what has happened. Do you understand, Hester?”
She looked at Mrs. Gentrie. “If Mrs. Gentrie says so...”
“I do, Hester,” Mrs. Gentrie said. “You mustn’t tell a soul.”
“And you?” Tragg asked Rebecca.
The spinster clamped her lips together tightly and nodded with vehemence.
Tragg shifted his glance to Mrs. Gentrie. She said, “I can’t understand the fact that my cellar is being used for...”
“But you do appreciate the necessity of keeping this matter absolutely to ourselves?” Tragg asked.
Slowly, Mrs. Gentrie nodded.