It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, one day in October. There was no sun, and there were
rain−clouds over the distant hills. I was wearing my light blue suit with a dark blue shirt and tie, black
socks and shoes. I was a nice, clean, well−dressed private detective. I was about to meet four million
dollars.
From the entrance hall where I was waiting I could see a lot of smooth green grass and a white
garage. A young chauffeur was cleaning a dark red sports−car. Beyond the garage I could see a large
greenhouse. Beyond that there were trees and then the hills.
There was a large picture in the hall, with some old flags above it. The picture was of a man in
army uniform. He had hot hard black eyes. Was he General Sternwood's grand− father? The uniform
told me that he could not be the General himself, although I knew he was old. I also knew he had two
daughters, who were still in their twenties.
While I was studying the picture, a door opened. It was a girl. She was about twenty, small but
tough−looking. Her golden hair was cut short, and she looked at me with cold grey eyes. When she
smiled, I saw little sharp white teeth. Her face was white, too, and she didn't look healthy.
`Tall, aren't you?' she said.
`I apologize for growing.'
She looked surprised. She was thinking. I could see that thinking was difficult for her.
`Handsome, too,' she said. She bit her lip and half−closed her eyes. She waited to see what effect
that had on me. When I did nothing, she asked, `Who are you?'
`I'm a detective.'
