Cramer turned to the young woman. “What’s your name?”
“None of your business!” she snapped.
“Yes, sir,” the dick said. “She won’t co-operate.”
“What do you mean, I won’t co-operate?” She was indignant, but I wouldn’t have said she looked scared. “I admit I opened the door and looked in, don’t I? I got into the corridor by mistake and I was looking for a way out. And why should I have to tell you my name and get my name in the papers—”
“Why didn’t you get out the way you got in?”
“Because I got in away around at the other side, and I just thought... hey! Hello there!”
Everyone looked the way she was looking, which resulted in all of us looking at Fred Updegraff. Fred himself turned red and was turning redder, as he met her gaze.
“Well,” he said, and seemed to think he had said something.
“It was you,” she said, “there with the door open, stooping down there peeking in when you heard me.”
“Sure,” Fred acknowledged, “sure it was me.”