“You mentioned a garage door,” Mason said to Steele. “That’s a door which communicates with the garage where Mr. Hocksley keeps his car?”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Gentrie said. “There’s a double garage with one door leading to the cellar. You see, the house is built on a sloping lot, and the ground is so steep they made the cellar in two levels. I presume the house was built before the days of automobiles — or at least before people appreciated the importance of having a garage in connection with the house. Then, later on, someone remodeled that end of the basement so as to include a two-car garage. We keep our machine in one of them, so we have the other one for rent. The side that has the door to the cellar is a little the more desirable, so we rent that, and, of course, use that door to the cellar to come in and out of our house, particularly when it’s rainy.”
Mason said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at the garage.”
“You can come right down the cellar stairs, Mr. Mason, and open the door — or you can walk around the sidewalk and come in through the garage door.”
“I think I’d prefer to go in through the cellar.”
Mrs. Gentrie said, “If you’ll just come this way, Mr. Mason.”
Rebecca firmly pushed the dictionary and the crossword puzzle to one side, got to her feet, and smoothed down her skirts. “If you think you’re going down in that cellar with Mr. Mason and talk about that empty can, and have me sitting up here where I can’t hear what you’re saying, Florence Gentrie, you’re very much mistaken. The more I think of it, the more I think that empty tin may just as well as not be a clue to what happened.”
“How could it be a clue?” Mrs. Gentrie asked, her eyes twinkling.
“I don’t know,” Rebecca said firmly, “but it might just as well be. Don’t you think so, Delman?”
Steele’s laugh was magnetic. “Don’t involve me in a family argument,” he said. “I just room here. They take me in as one of the family — but I’m not a charter member. I am not entitled to take part in the discussions.”