She packed some things, and I took her to Newark in an aircab. Her aunt was hospitable and cooperative, albeit a little confused. I checked her apartment thoroughly. I was taking no chances that the aunt's living room could be the potential scene of the crime. It wasn't—no similarity.
"Promise me," I said, "that you won't go back to your apartment for any reason until I tell you it's all right."
"I promise. But I may need some more things."
"Make a list, and I'll have a police woman pick them up for you."
"All right."
I arranged with the superintendent of her apartment building to have the lights in her apartment turned on each evening, and turned off at an appropriate time. I put a stakeout on her apartment building, and on her aunt's. I got a detective assigned to shadow her, though she didn't know it, of course. Then it was zero to five days, and I was quietly going nuts.
Zero to four days. I walked into the D. F. C. room, and Walker swarmed all over me. "I found it again," he said.
"Anything new?"
"No. Just the same thing. Exactly the same."
"When?"