"The landlady is outside on the landing," he remarked, holding the door
open.
Thereupon the inspector went out, and we all followed to hear the result
of his inquiries.
"Now, Mrs. Goldstein," said the officer, opening his notebook, "I want
you to tell us all that you know about this affair, and about the girl
herself. What was her name?"
The landlady, who had been joined by a white-faced, tremulous man, wiped
her eyes, and replied in a shaky voice: "Her name, poor child, was Minna
Adler. She was a German. She came from Bremen about two years ago. She
had no friends in England--no relatives, I mean. She was a waitress at a
restaurant in Fenchurch Street, and a good, quiet, hard-working girl."
"When did you discover what had happened?"
"About eleven o'clock. I thought she had gone to work as usual, but my
husband noticed from the back yard that her blind was still down. So I
went up and knocked, and when I got no answer, I opened the door and
went in, and then I saw--" Here the poor soul, overcome by the dreadful
recollection, burst into hysterical sobs.
"Her door was unlocked, then; did she usually lock it?"
"I think so," sobbed Mrs.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354