“Character spying on us from the walnut tree outside the bedroom window. I trailed him here―”
“What did he look like?” frowned Laurel.
“No clothes on.”
“Why, the lying mugwump!” she said angrily. “He promised on his honor he wouldn’t do that any more. It’s got so I have to undress in the dark.”
“So you know him, too,” growled Ellery. “I thought California had a drive on these sex cases.”
“Oh, he’s no sex case. He just throws gravel at my window and tries to get me to talk drool to him. I can’t waste my time on somebody who’s preparing for Armageddon at the age of twenty-three. Ellery, let’s see that note!”
“Whose grandson is he?”
“Grandson? Mr. Collier’s.”
“Mr. Collier wouldn’t be a little skinny old gent with a face like a sun-dried fig?”
“That’s right.”