“Would you like some coffee to keep you awake?”
Anderson nodded. “Thank you.” His voice sank lower. “Do the servants know who I am?”
“Only Lizzie, my maid.”
His eyes fixed hers. “I wouldn’t tell anyone I’m remaining up all night,” he said.
A formless fear rose in Miss Cornelia’s mind. “You don’t suspect my household?” she said in a low voice.
He spoke with emphasis—all the more pronounced because of the quietude of his tone.
“I’m not taking any chances,” he said determinedly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CROSS-QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS
All unconscious of the slur just cast upon her forty years of single-minded devotion to the Van Gorder family, Lizzie chose that particular moment to open the door and make a little bob at her mistress and the detective.
“The gentleman’s room is ready,” she said meekly. In her mind she was already beseeching her patron saint that she would not have to show the gentleman to his room. Her ideas of detectives were entirely drawn from sensational magazines and her private opinion was that Anderson might have anything in his pocket from a set of terrifying false whiskers to a bomb!