9Milton Minor hadn’t more than closed the front door, it seemed to me, when I heard a soft double-quick sound of the brass knocker. As I got up I looked around to see what the gifted biographer and amateur detective had left behind that he had to come back for. But there was nothing but the $2.75, which was clearly mine for the Telephone company. Sheila stretched and got up and proceeded ahead of me along the hall. When I opened the front door it took me a long fraction of an instant to adjust to the fact that it wasn’t Milton out there. I stood stupidly in the doorway, thinking I must be slightly touched in the head. It couldn’t be Dorothy Hallet, at that time of night and in those clothes, no matter how much the face looked like hers.
“Don’t just stand there, Grace—let me in,” she said
