"Think back, Mrs. Platz. Has Mr. Benson never, to your knowledge, been in anyone's company without his toupee?"
She was silent for some time, her brows contracted.
"Once I saw him take off his wig and show it to Colonel Ostrander, an elderly gentleman who used to call here very often. But Colonel Ostrander was an old friend of his. He told me they lived together once."
"No one else?"
Again she frowned thoughtfully.
"No," she said, after several minutes.
"What about the tradespeople?"
"He was very particular about them. . . . And strangers, too," she added. "When he used to sit in here in hot weather without his wig, he always pulled the shade on that window." She pointed to the one nearest the hallway. "You can look in it from the steps."
"I'm glad you brought up that point," said Vance. "And anyone standing on the steps could tap on the window or the iron bars, and attract the attention of anyone in this room?"
"Oh, yes, sir—easily. I did it myself once, when I went on an errand and forgot my key."
"It's quite likely, don't you think, that the person who shot Mr. Benson obtained admittance that way?"
"Yes, sir." She grasped eagerly at the suggestion.
"The person would have had to know Mr. Benson pretty well to tap on the window instead of ringing the bell. Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Platz?"
