“Mighty queer. She’s home sick and then you call her up and she promises to get right up and come. Funny sickness, I call it.”
“Who said she’s sick?”
“Well, she took a fainting spell at the funeral yesterday.”
“Whose funeral?”
He detected the anxious note in her voice and became suspicious.
“Nobody’s business whose funeral it was. Emily Grimshaw can tell you. She was there. I’ll be back later to see about the poetry.”
“You’re not going!” Judy cried in alarm as he turned toward the door.
“Why not? There’s nothing to keep me.”
Judy’s thoughts answered him in a whirl. “Oh, but there is, Mr. Crosby. There’s a locked door to keep you, and if you find out that I locked it you will know that I set a trap for you, that I must have known about Irene’s disappearance. You’ll be furious! You may kill me before Peter and the police get here.”
In reality she said, “Please, Mr. Crosby. Miss Grimshaw will be only a minute and I would like to see this misunderstanding about the poetry cleared up.”