The Second Confesion

On the phone I had suggested to Madeline that it might be more tactful for me to park outside the entrance and meet her somewhere on the grounds, and she replied that when it got to where she had to sneak me in she would rather I stayed out.

I didn't insist, because my errand would take me near the house anyway, and Sperling would be away, at his office in New York, and I doubted if Jimmy or Mom would care to raise a howl at the sight of me since we were now better acquainted. So I turned in at the entrance and drove on up to the house, and parked on the plaza behind the shrubbery, at the exact spot I had chosen before.

The sun was shining and the birds were twittering and leaves and flowers were everywhere in their places, and Madeline, on the west terrace, had on a cotton print with big yellow butterflies on it. She came to meet me, but stopped ten feet off to stare.

“My Lord,” she exclaimed, “that's exactly what I wanted to do! Who got ahead of me?” “That's a swell attitude,” I said bitterly. “It hurts.” “Certainly it does, that's why we do it.” She had advanced and was inspecting my cheek at close range. “It was a darned good job. You look simply awful. Hadn't you better go and come back in a week or two?” “No, ma'am.” “Who did it?” “You'd be surprised.” I tilted my head to whisper in her ear. “Your mother.” She laughed a nice little laugh. “She might do the other side, at that, if you get near. You should have seen her face when I told her you were coming. How about a drink? Some coffee?” “No, thanks. I've got work to do.” “So you said. What's this about a wallet?” “It's not really about a wallet, it's a card case. In summer clothes, without enough pockets, it's a problem. You told me it hadn't been found in the house, so it must be outdoors somewhere. When we were out looking for your sister Monday night it was in my hip pocket, or it was when we started, and in all the excitement I didn't miss it until yesterday. I've got to have it because my licence is in it.” “Your driving licence?” I shook my head. “Detective licence.” “That's right, you're a detective, aren't you? All right, come on.” She moved.