THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
Mr. Bordman—Samuel Bordman—who lived here for many years."
"Ain't living here now," replied the janitor, briefly. "When he went away in April he didn't come back. His lease lapsed in August; so I had to rent his apartment."
"Have you any idea of his whereabouts?"
"Nope. Packed up and cleared out, 's all I know. Say"—with sudden interest—"be you a detective?"
"No. I'm merely one of his clients. I wanted to find him if possible. Did he seem all right when he left?"
"Well, he kind o' spruced up a bit toward the last and wore a pink in his buttonhole. But he wasn't any more luny than usual."
"A trifle queer, eh?"
"On some points. Always paid his bills; so we hadn't any kick coming. Oh, he was all right. We all liked the old codger, if you come to that."
"Did a woman ever call on him?"
"Bo, whenever he saw a strange female he beat it for the dumb-waiter, believe me. They couldn't get near him with a ten-foot pole. Nope; nothing like that in his. He was here for about eighteen years; so I
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