“Who’s dar?” demanded Mandy, her trembling tones belying her belligerent attitude as she braced herself so as to shut the door in case the caller pushed against it.
“Inspector Mitchell,” the latter announced briefly. “Let me in, Mandy.”
Slowly the door was pulled open, but it was not until the old servant could distinguish Mitchell’s features with the aid of the hall light that she stepped aside and allowed him to enter.
“What yo’ want?” she asked.
“To see Miss Kitty Baird.”
“At this time o’ night?” in scandalized surprise.
“That’s all right about the hour,” with marked impatience. “Go tell her I am here.”
Mandy wavered—the power of the law as represented by a policeman, not to mention an inspector, loomed large in her vision.
“Miss Kitty am out,” she announced briefly.
“At this hour?” Mitchell smiled skeptically. “Go call her, Mandy.”