Much as I wanted to see who was in there, common sense won out. If it was the police I had no way to explain my presence. If it was the murderer returned to retrieve something incriminating, I’d be the next victim and if it was the housekeeper, making another raid on her master’s belongings, then there was no way I could pump her for information in the future if she encountered me here. I felt my way back across the studio, eased myself out of the window onto the stepladder, then folded it up, and let myself out of the garden as silently as possible. The street was still deserted. I crossed the circle and went to stand behind the fountain that graced the middle. After what seemed like hours of standing and holding a stepladder, I saw a figure emerge from Reynold Bryce’s building. It was the housekeeper again and this time she was carrying two bulging canvas bags.

I smiled to myself as I watched her scurry off. She’d cleared out her room of her own possessions yesterday, so today she was clearly stealing. It might be a good piece of knowledge to hold over her when I went back tomorrow to find out more about that model. I walked back to Mary’s house, returned the stepladder, and changed into more normal garb.

“We’re glad to see you in one piece,” Sid said as I appeared in the salon where they were drinking coffee. “We half expected to hear you’d been dragged away in chains.”

“It was touch and go for a while,” I said. “The housekeeper returned while I was there. Luckily she was so intent on helping herself to Mr. Bryce’s things that I was able to slip away again.”

“Mercy me,” Mary said. “And did you learn anything important from this risky endeavor?”

“Yes, I did, actually. Reynold Bryce was painting a portrait of a young girl when he died. The paint was still slightly wet. And it was the same girl that Maxim Noah painted in your picture, Gus.”

“Really? You think she was in the house when he died?” Gus asked. “Or—you don’t think she killed him, do you?”

“That’s what we have to find out. I thought I’d go and seek out Maxim Noah and get the name of the young woman from him. I wish I’d known this last night because I could have asked him at the Steins’ party.”

“He was there?” Sid’s expression brightened.

“He was, and he sent you his best regards.”

“You didn’t tell him where we were?”

“Of course not. I stuck to our story that you had been taken ill while visiting the countryside and were still there, recuperating.”

“That’s good,” Sid smiled again.

“And I also tried to ask him what the Jewish community was saying about the death of Reynold Bryce.”