“Sounds fishy, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth, nevertheless. I intended to see her—that is, I wanted to—but when I reached her door, something made me change my mind——”
“Just a moment.—How did you enter the house?”
“By the side door—the one off the alleyway. I always used it when it was open. Miss Odell requested me to, so that the telephone operator wouldn’t see me coming in so often.”
“And the door was unlocked at that time Monday night?”
“How else could I have got in by it? A key wouldn’t have done me any good, even if I’d had one, for the door locks by a bolt on the inside. I’ll say this, though: that’s the first time I ever remember finding the door unlocked at night.”
“All right. You went in the side entrance. Then what?”
“I walked down the rear hall and listened at the door of Miss Odell’s apartment for a minute. I thought there might be some one else with her, and I didn’t want to ring unless she was alone. . . .”
“Pardon my interrupting, Mr. Cleaver,” interposed Vance. “But what made you think some one else was there?”
The man hesitated.
“Was it,” prompted Vance, “because you had telephoned to Miss Odell a little while before, and had been answered by a man’s voice?”