“On the window sill,” she explained. “Why?”
“Oh—nothing,” was his answer, but she noted that he took the threads from her, and carefully put them in a card case. “They might do to make a fishing fly with,” he explained, after a pause.
“Oh,” she said.
They strolled around to the front door of the building to find it locked.
“There’s someone’s card,” remarked Ruth, as she touched a bit of pasteboard with the toe of her shoe. “Maybe it was on the door, telling at what hour the person who lives here would return.”
“Maybe,” agreed Tom, stooping to pick it up. “I’ll fasten it back again. I wonder who does live here?”
Idly he turned the card over. Then he started in surprise, for the name that met his eyes was:
Reginald Boswell
“Who is it?” asked Ruth. “Anyone I know?”