Half the women in town don't speak to me."
It was at the end of Rosalie's fifth week as a member of the family that
something happened. Late one night when Anderson opened the front door
to put out the cat a heavily veiled woman mounted the steps and accosted
him. In some trepidation he drew back and would have closed the door but
for her eager remonstrance.
"I must see you, Mr. Crow," she cried in a low, agitated voice.
"Who are you?" he demanded. She was dressed entirely in black.
"I came to see you about the baby."
"That won't do, madam. There's been three tramps here to hornswoggle us
an' I--"
"I _must_ see her, Mr. Crow," pleaded the stranger, and he was struck by
the richness of her voice.
"Mighty queer, it seems to me," he muttered hesitatingly. "Are you any
kin to it?"
"I am very much interested."
"By giminy, I believe you're the one who left her here," cried the
detective. "Are you a typewriter?"
"I'll answer your questions if you'll allow me to step inside. It is
very cold out here."
Anderson Crow stood aside and the tall, black figure entered the hall.
He led her to the warm sitting-room and gave her a chair before the
"base-burner."
"Here, Mr. Crow, is an envelope containing two hundred and fifty
dollars. That proves my good faith. I cannot tell you who I am nor what
relation I bear to the baby.
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