“And the number?”
There was a sigh. “I can’t—wait a minute. I think it was twenty-nine hundred something Tidewater Road.” She opened her eyes eagerly. “Yes, I know it was. It was the twenty-nine-hundred block.”
Peggy hurriedly slipped the photograph back in its envelope. “Well, thank you very much,” she said. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“I wish I could have done more for poor Mr. Agate. He really was such a nice gentleman.”
“If I locate him, I’ll give him your regards,” Peggy promised.
The woman danced nervously around Peggy, obviously reluctant to see her go. “Won’t you stay for a cup of tea, my dear?”
Peggy declined as gracefully as she could. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m going to have to get to Baywater this afternoon.”
The woman was now eager to help. “If you take the number fourteen bus down at the end of the block, it will get you to the Long Island Railroad Station. I’m sorry I don’t have a timetable.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Peggy said, edging toward the door. “I’ll be able to manage. Thank you again.” Peggy turned the handle of the front door and stepped out on the porch.
As Peggy fled down the steps, she heard a muffled “good-by” as the door slammed shut. That would be the woman on her way to the telephone to tell Maude Whatever-her-name-was all about the famous Mr. Agate. Well, let her, Peggy thought to herself with a smile. No harm in that.