CHAPTER 36Mr. Mottingley was in his office. He had resumed his business habits, but his mind was elsewhere. Only by keeping it strictly on business was there any relief from the dreadful suspense that racked him.
There was a knock on the door, and he looked up frowning. His preoccupation was hard won and to be held on to at all costs. The girl who looked in was pretty and shy. She was quite dreadfully afraid of Mr. Mottingley, but she liked Jimmy. Everyone in the office liked him. She was hotly partisan, too. Whoever had killed that girl, it certainly wasn’t Jimmy Mottingley. Anyone who knew him could tell that.
“What is it?” said Mr. Mottingley at his shortest.
“It’s—it’s Miss Lingbourne, sir. She—she wanted to see you.”
“Miss Lingbourne?” He frowned. “What does she want?”
“She didn’
