“Is your wife in?”

“No, she’s shopping, I believe. I don’t know when she’ll be back. Mrs. Walcott can spend the entire day shopping if she sets her mind to it.”

“Then I’ll come back later and talk to her,” Frank said. “Now why don’t you tell me everything you know about Anna Blake?”

Walcott surrendered with bad grace, seating himself on a chair opposite Frank, but perching on the edge, as if only planning to stay there a few moments. “Anna only lived here a few months. Three or four, I believe, although I can’t be sure. My wife could tell you exactly.”

“How long did her mother live here with her before she died?” Frank asked casually.

Walcott’s forehead creased into a frown. “Her mother?” he echoed uncertainly. “I don’t… her mother never lived here at all. She’s dead, or so I was led to believe.”

“Do you know how long ago she died?”

Walcott considered a moment. “I’m sure I don’t know exactly, but I gathered she’d been gone for a long while. Anna was all alone in the world and had been for some time.”

No dying mother. No operation. This explained a lot about Anna Blake. “Was she employed?”

“I… not that I know of. Really, Detective, you should be talking to my wife. I didn’t know Anna very well.”

“She lived in your house,” Frank reminded him.

“Yes, but I hardly ever do,” Walcott replied.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I travel extensively.”

“For your business?” Frank guessed.

“No, I… that is, I simply like to travel, and do so at every opportunity.”

“What business are you in?” Frank prodded.

Again Walcott hesitated, but Frank thought he seemed slightly embarrassed. “I… I don’t have a business. You see, Mrs. Walcott’s family left her a small inheritance. Not a lot, but enough that with our income from our lodgers, I do not have to be employed. She likes staying home and taking care of our guests-I believe they substitute for the children we never had-and I am free to come and go as I please.”

“How many boarders do you have?”

“Sometimes we have three, but two usually… I mean, Anna was one of them. Catherine Porter is the other, at the moment. Now, I suppose, we only have one.”

“Then you had an empty room, but I didn’t see a sign advertising it,” Frank noted.

“Oh, we don’t put out a sign. We prefer to obtain our lodgers by recommendation. We set high standards, you see.”

“About their ability to pay, I guess.”

Walcott seemed surprised. “Yes, I suppose… Well, of course, we don’t take anyone who wouldn’t be able to support themselves, but we want respectable young ladies, too. If you put out a sign, you never know who might come along.”

“It’s my understanding that Anna Blake didn’t have a job. How did she convince you she could pay the rent?” Frank inquired.

“Well, uh, that is… You’d really have to ask Mrs. Walcott about that. She handles all the arrangements. I don’t involve myself in such matters.”

Frank was becoming annoyed with Walcott, but he didn’t let it show. “Tell me what happened the night Anna died.”

Now it was Walcott’s turn to be annoyed, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t here that night.”

“Where were you? Traveling?” He managed to make his skepticism known.

“Yes, I was in Philadelphia.”

“Can you prove it?” Frank asked mildly.

Walcott’s face had grown red. “If necessary,” he replied tightly.

“So you would have no idea why Anna went out that night?”

“None at all.”

“Was she in the habit of going out alone at night?”

“We keep a decent house here, Detective. Any young ladies in the habit of going out at night would be asked to leave.”

“I guess that means you wouldn’t allow them gentleman callers, either.”

“In the parlor, where they could be chaperoned,” Walcott snapped.

“Then can you explain how Anna Black got herself with child?”

“What?” Walcott looked genuinely shocked.

“Anna Blake claimed she was with child, and from what I’ve been given to understand, she got that way right here in your house.”

“I can’t imagine who gave you an idea like that, but it’s completely false. Such a thing could never happen here.”

“How can you be sure? You said yourself that you don’t spend much time at home.”

Walcott was insulted now. “My wife would never let such a thing happen either. She’s very careful. She has her own reputation to protect, after all.”

“Maybe she didn’t know about it,” Frank suggested, but Walcott wasn’t going to be placated.

“Are you finished with me?” he asked, rising from his chair. “As I told you, I have an appointment and-” The sound of someone knocking on the front door interrupted him, and he signed in exasperation. “I hope that isn’t one of those reporters. There were about a dozen of them outside this morning when we woke up. I thought they were going to break down the door. Poor Catherine, our other lodger, was nearly hysterical with fright.”

“How did you get rid of them?” Frank asked curiously.

“I told them the name of the bank where Nelson Ellsworth is employed,” he said, and Frank nearly groaned aloud. So much for protecting Nelson’s employer from the onslaught of the press.

Frank saw a maid come from the rear of the house to answer the door, and then he did groan aloud because the person she admitted was Sarah Brandt.

“Malloy,” she said when she saw him through the open parlor door, smiling too smugly for Frank’s taste.

He rose to his feet, but he didn’t return her greeting as she brazenly came into the room without waiting for an invitation. She waited a moment for him to make introductions, and when he didn’t, she offered Walcott her hand.

“I’m Sarah Brandt, a friend of Anna Blake’s.”

Even Frank was impressed with her audacity. Walcott was simply confused.

“I’m sorry, Miss Brandt, but Anna… Something terrible has happened and-”

“It’s Mrs. Brandt, and I know what happened to poor, dear Anna,” she told him. “I’ve come to see if there is anything I can do to help. I’m sure Mrs. Walcott must be very upset, and I thought I might be of some assistance to her. Is she receiving visitors?”

“She’s out shopping,” Frank informed her.

Mrs. Brandt raised her fine eyebrows to express her surprise at such a thing

“I’ll be sure to tell her you called,” Mr. Walcott assured her hastily.

“The other lodger is pretty upset,” Frank offered. “Maybe she’d appreciate a visit.”

Mrs. Brandt’s eyebrows rose higher, probably to express her shock that Frank had asked for her assistance, but she was gracious enough not to betray any other reaction.

“Are you a friend of Miss Porter’s, too?” Walcott asked her suspiciously.

Frank never got to hear what bold-faced lie Sarah Brandt might have told because just then someone else started pounding insistently on the front door.

“Reporters,” Walcott muttered furiously, and this time he didn’t wait for the maid to answer.

Striding purposefully back out into the foyer, he opened the door, prepared to do battle with a member of the Fourth Estate. Instead, a very distraught middle-aged man pushed his way into the house. “Where is she?” he demanded.

Walcott seemed genuinely alarmed. “This isn’t an opportune time, Mr. Giddings,” he said, hurrying over and closing the door to the parlor in Frank’s face. But if he’d thought the act would give him privacy, he was mistaken.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Giddings shouted, his voice clearly audible through the door. “I have to see her. Where is she?”

“She isn’t here,” Walcott said anxiously. “You must leave. The police-”

“Don’t threaten me with the police! Do you think I give a damn about them? I’ve got to see her. Anna!” he cried. “Anna, come down here!”

Walcott said something Frank couldn’t understand, and then he heard the sounds of a scuffle. In another moment, footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Giddings was calling for Anna again.