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enjoying a look of disappointment growing on the faces of his visitors. Then he resumed. “Since I couldn’t follow him inside, I made the acquaintance of Ambrose Norton, a young, ambitious clerk at the bank, who appears to detest Sullivan and covets his position as assistant to the head of the bank’s trust department. According to the clerk, Sullivan settles down every morning in his small, plain office adjacent to the large, splendid one of his boss. A pot of tea soon arrives. Sullivan sips at his desk while glancing at the financial pages of the morning paper and clipping articles of special interest for later use. Routine meetings and appointments follow at regular intervals until noon.”
    â€œNothing remarkable about him this far,” Harry remarked. “But how did you get Norton to speak to you at all?”
    â€œA friend of a friend of mine knows and respects him, and introduced us at a bar. He’s a young lawyer with good credentials from the Columbia Law School. For three years, he has worked as a clerk in the trust department learning the business. He’s very eager to get ahead but recently has become frustrated. Sullivan overworks him, fails to give him credit, and has written an unfair review of his work.”
    â€œIs Norton angry?”
    â€œYes, I’d say he’d be willing to help ease Sullivan out of the way, but he’d be afraid of being regarded as an intriguer. He hinted that Sullivan is vulnerable but wouldn’t tell me why—not yet.”
    Pamela remarked, “We clearly need to encourage Norton to take us deeper into Sullivan’s secrets, but now lead us through the rest of his day.”
    Flynn nodded. “Norton has spoken to servants at the club where Sullivan lunches at noon. While others indulge in loose talk and large beefsteaks, washed down with beer and wine, he eats slowly and drinks little, attending instead to investment opportunities and pitfalls. He prides himself on the nuggets of useful information he gleans there. But Norton complains that he has to correct or discard most of it.
    â€œAt two o’clock, Sullivan walks back to his office for an afternoon of more meetings and appointments. After business hours, he lingers in his office writing memos to himself presumably for buying and selling stocks and bonds and real estate.”
    â€œWhat does Sullivan do on the weekend?” asked Harry, appearing a little impatient at Flynn’s slow pace.
    â€œNorton didn’t know,” replied Flynn.
    â€œI can fill in a few details,” said Pamela. “According to Mrs. Donovan and Trish White, Michael takes a long walk on Saturday morning, lunches alone, then retires to his study. He spends hours going over household and personal accounts and meeting with members of his family and the servants. Saturday evening, he dines with family and occasional guests from a narrow circle of relatives and business acquaintances.”
    â€œSo far his behavior seems proper, if dull,” remarked Harry. “Aren’t there any traces of bad behavior?”
    â€œThere’s still the night,” said Pamela. “Mrs. Donovan’s room is near the back door. She has noticed him slipping out of the house late on Saturday when everyone has gone to bed. He’s at home other nights. Whenever he’s in the house, however, he’s a threat to Theresa. Mrs. Donovan has also instructed her to barricade the door when she’s alone in her room or in bed.”
    â€œShe shouldn’t have to live in fear,” Harry said. He looked grim, his jaw rigid. “If he harms her, I’ll kill him,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll follow him next Saturday night. In the meantime, we’ll get better acquainted with Norton.”
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    Monday evening, Flynn, Harry, and Pamela went by cab to the Cooper Union on Astor Place to meet the clerk. Flynn had arranged with Norton to set aside an hour before