CHAPTER EIGHTReferences
Gamadge went down the three flights of stairs and out into the vestibule. He pushed the superintendent’s bell; Alice Dunbar had stood here, once at least, and pushed a bell—whose?
Not the Steadmans’—they had only moved in last June. Not, presumably, the printer’s, or the architect’s, or that of the two elderly ladies on the top floor—the “couple” of poor Miss Bransome’s information. Alice Dunbar would hardly need to resort to deception in dealing with those.
Mr. Fuller, the tenant who had a personal recommendation, who spent money on flowers but didn’t mind the ragged grass of a city backyard? Puzzled and morose, Gamadge waited; but when the door opened he greeted the stout woman in front of him with a smile.
“You’re the superintendent?”
“Yes, sir.” She was get
