“Mrs. Marborough?”
“Yes, imagine being so sensitive about how the interior of her house looks. Who would expect it to be fixed up nicely after standing empty so many years?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Penny asked. She hopped grotesquely on one foot as she extricated the other from the coveralls.
“Forgetting what?” Louise demanded, puzzled.
“Remember that first day we peeped into the house through the window?”
“Why, yes, what about it?”
“Your memory isn’t very good, Louise. Don’t you remember the sheet-draped furniture we saw?”
“That’s right! I had forgotten. What became of it?”
“If I had just one guess, I’d say—Mr. Butterworth.”
“Who is he, Penny?”