"I will speak to Mrs. Bleecker, then."
"You can't see her, either."
"Who are you?" he demanded, as so many others had done.
I gave him my card, hoping that he would take the hint, and save me further explanations.
Not a bit of it. "Investigator? What does that mean? Detective?"
"Precisely."
"What's it all about?" he cried irritably. "Why are you looking at me like a policeman?"
"Look at me close," I said.
He stared at me angry and puzzled. "I have seen you before—more than once——" Then his face changed. "Faxon!" he cried. "Is it Faxon?"
"The same," I said.