Chapter 7
THERE was a young lady in his apartment. Ordinarily McCord would not have minded this, but at the same instant he also discovered that his rooms had been searched. He thought that was carrying intimacy a little too far.
The lady was, naturally, one of the Martin triplets, and it was getting so that McCord had little or no trouble distinguishing them one from the other. Almost immediately he identified this particularly brazen vandal as Charity.
With admirable repression he came in and closed the door and leaned his back against it.
“Surprise, surprise.”
Charity appeared neither surprised nor embarrassed. A finger marked her place in a book she had been reading, and beside her in an ash tray a cigarette smoldered.
“You certainly are a terrible housekeeper,” she observed. Her
