The mystery seemed
complete,--at least to the manager. But the detective was not quite
satisfied. He asked the man if at any time that day, before or after Mrs.
Ransom's disappearance, he had swung the door open for a lady who walked
lame. The answer was decisive. "Yes; one who walked as if her shoes were
tight."
"When?"
"Oh a little while after the gentleman asked his questions."
"Was she dressed in brown?"
That he didn't know. He didn't look at ladies' dresses unless they were
something special.
"But she walked lame and she came from Room 3?"
Yes. He remembered that much.
Gerridge, with a nod to the manager, stepped into the open compartment of
the whirling door. "I'm off," said he. "Expect to hear from me in two
hours."
At twenty minutes to ten Mr. Ransom was called up on the telephone.
"One question, Mr. Ransom."
"Hello, who are you?"
"Gerridge."
"All right, go ahead."
"Did you see the face of the woman you spoke to in Room No. 3?"
"Of course. She was looking directly at me."
"You remember it? Could identify it if you saw it again?"
"Yes; that is--"
"That's all, good-by."
The circuit was cut off.
Another intolerable wait. Then there came a knock on the door and
Gerridge entered. He held a photograph in his hand which he had evidently
taken from his pocket on his way up.
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