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diff --git a/old/thbat10.txt b/old/thbat10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6746eb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thbat10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9259 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Bat, by Rinehart and Hopwood +#13 in our series by Mary Roberts Rinehart + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + +The Bat, by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +ONE THE SHADOW OF THE BAT +TWO THE INDOMITABLE MISS VAN GORDER +THREE PISTOL PRACTICE +FOUR THE STORM GATHERS +FIVE ALOPECIA AND RUBEOLA +SIX DETECTIVE ANDERSON TAKES CHARGE +SEVEN CROSS-QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS +EIGHT THE GLEAMING EYE +NINE A SHOT IN THE DARK +TEN THE PHONE CALL FROM NOWHERE +ELEVEN BILLY PRACTICES JIU-JITSU +TWELVE "I DIDN'T KILL HIM." +THIRTEEN THE BLACKENED BAG +FOURTEEN HANDCUFFS +FIFTEEN THE SIGN OF THE BAT +SIXTEEN THE HIDDEN ROOM +SEVENTEEN ANDERSON MAKES AN ARREST +EIGHTEEN THE BAT STILL FLIES +NINETEEN MURDER ON MURDER +TWENTY "HE IS--THE BAT!" +TWENTY-ONE QUITE A COLLECTION + + + + +THE BAT + +CHAPTER ONE + +THE SHADOW OF THE BAT + +"You've got to get him, boys--get him or bust!" said a tired police +chief, pounding a heavy fist on a table. The detectives he bellowed +the words at looked at the floor. They had done their best and +failed. Failure meant "resignation" for the police chief, return +to the hated work of pounding the pavements for them--they knew +it, and, knowing it, could summon no gesture of bravado to answer +their chief's. Gunmen, thugs, hi-jackers, loft-robbers, murderers, +they could get them all in time--but they could not get the man +he wanted. + +"Get him--to hell with expense--I'll give you carte blanche--but +get him!" said a haggard millionaire in the sedate inner offices of +the best private detective firm in the country. The man on the +other side of the desk, man hunter extraordinary, old servant of +Government and State, sleuthhound without a peer, threw up his hands +in a gesture of odd hopelessness. "It isn't the money, Mr. De Courcy +--I'd give every cent I've made to get the man you want--but I +can't promise you results--for the first time in my life." The +conversation was ended. + +"Get him? Huh! I'll get him, watch my smoke!" It was young +ambition speaking in a certain set of rooms in Washington. Three +days later young ambition lay in a New York gutter with a bullet in +his heart and a look of such horror and surprise on his dead face +that even the ambulance-Doctor who found him felt shaken. "We've +lost the most promising man I've had in ten years," said his chief +when the news came in. He swore helplessly, "Damn the luck!" + +"Get him--get him--get him--get him!" From a thousand sources +now the clamor arose--press, police, and public alike crying out +for the capture of the master criminal of a century--lost voices +hounding a specter down the alleyways of the wind. And still the +meshes broke and the quarry slipped away before the hounds were +well on the scent--leaving behind a trail of shattered safes and +rifled jewel cases--while ever the clamor rose higher to "Get him +--get him--get--" + +Get whom, in God's name--get what? Beast, man, or devil? A +specter--a flying shadow--the shadow of a Bat. + +From thieves' hangout to thieves' hangout the word passed along +stirring the underworld like the passage of an electric spark. +"There's a bigger guy than Pete Flynn shooting the works, a guy +that could have Jim Gunderson for breakfast and not notice he'd et." +The underworld heard and waited to be shown; after a little while +the underworld began to whisper to itself in tones of awed respect. +There were bright stars and flashing comets in the sky of the world +of crime--but this new planet rose with the portent of an evil moon. + +The Bat--they called him the Bat. Like a bat he chose the night +hours for his work of rapine; like a bat he struck and vanished, +pouncingly, noiselessly; like a bat he never showed himself to the +face of the day. He'd never been in stir, the bulls had never +mugged him, he didn't run with a mob, he played a lone hand, and +fenced his stuff so that even the fence couldn't swear he knew his +face. Most lone wolves had a moll at any rate--women were their +ruin--but if the Bat had a moll, not even the grapevine telegraph +could locate her. + +Rat-faced gunmen in the dingy back rooms of saloons muttered over +his exploits with bated breath. In tawdrily gorgeous apartments, +where gathered the larger figures, the proconsuls of the world of +crime, cold, conscienceless brains dissected the work of a colder +and swifter brain than theirs, with suave and bitter envy. Evil's +Four Hundred chattered, discussed, debated--sent out a thousand +invisible tentacles to clutch at a shadow--to turn this shadow and +its distorted genius to their own ends. The tentacles recoiled, +baffled--the Bat worked alone--not even Evil's Four Hundred could +bend him into a willing instrument to execute another's plan. + +The men higher up waited. They had dealt with lone wolves before +and broken them. Some day the Bat would slip and falter; then +they would have him. But the weeks passed into months and still +the Bat flew free, solitary, untamed, and deadly. At last even his +own kind turned upon him; the underworld is like the upper in its +fear and distrust of genius that flies alone. But when they turned +against him, they turned against a spook--a shadow. A cold and +bodiless laughter from a pit of darkness answered and mocked at +their bungling gestures of hate--and went on, flouting Law and +Lawless alike. + +Where official trailer and private sleuth had failed, the newspapers +might succeed--or so thought the disillusioned young men of the +Fourth Estate--the tireless foxes, nose-down on the trail of news +--the trackers, who never gave up until that news was run to earth. +Star reporter, leg-man, cub, veteran gray in the trade--one and +all they tried to pin the Bat like a caught butterfly to the front +page of their respective journals--soon or late each gave up, +beaten. He was news--bigger news each week--a thousand ticking +typewriters clicked his adventures--the brief, staccato recital of +his career in the morgues of the great dailies grew longer and more +incredible each day. But the big news--the scoop of the century +--the yearned-for headline, "Bat Nabbed Red-Handed", "Bat Slain in +Gun Duel with Police"--still eluded the ravenous maw of the +Linotypes. And meanwhile, the red-scored list of his felonies +lengthened and the rewards offered from various sources for any +clue which might lead to his apprehension mounted and mounted till +they totaled a small fortune. + +Columnists took him up, played with the name and the terror, used +the name and the terror as a starting point from which to exhibit +their own particular opinions on everything and anything. Ministers +mentioned him in sermons; cranks wrote fanatic letters denouncing +him as one of the even-headed beasts of the Apocalypse and a +forerunner of the end of the world; a popular revue put on a special +Bat number wherein eighteen beautiful chorus girls appeared masked +and black-winged in costumes of Brazilian bat fur; there were Bat +club sandwiches, Bat cigarettes, and a new shade of hosiery called +simply and succinctly Bat. He became a fad--a catchword--a +national figure. And yet--he was walking Death--cold-- +remorseless. But Death itself had become a toy of publicity in +these days of limelight and jazz. + +A city editor, at lunch with a colleague, pulled at his cigarette +and talked. "See that Sunday story we had on the Bat?" he asked. +"Pretty tidy--huh--and yet we didn't have to play it up. It's +an amazing list--the Marshall jewels--the Allison murder--the +mail truck thing--two hundred thousand he got out of that, all +negotiable, and two men dead. I wonder how many people he's really +killed. We made it six murders and nearly a million in loot--didn't +even have room for the small stuff--but there must be more--" + +His companion whistled. + +"And when is the Universe's Finest Newspaper going to burst forth +with 'Bat Captured by BLADE Reporter?'" he queried sardonically. + +"Oh, for--lay off it, will you?" said the city editor peevishly. +"The Old Man's been hopping around about it for two months till +everybody's plumb cuckoo. Even offered a bonus--a big one--and +that shows how crazy he is--he doesn't love a nickel any better +than his right eye--for any sort of exclusive story. Bonus--huh!" +and he crushed out his cigarette. "It won't be a Blade reporter +that gets that bonus--or any reporter. It'll be Sherlock Holmes +from the spirit world!" + +"Well--can't you dig up a Sherlock?" + +The editor spread out his hands. "Now, look here," he said. "We've +got the best staff of any paper in the country, if I do say it. +We've got boys that could get a personal signed story from Delilah +on how she barbered Samson--and find out who struck Billy Patterson +and who was the Man in the Iron Mask. But the Bat's something else +again. Oh, of course, we've panned the police for not getting him; +that's always the game. But, personally, I won't pan them; they've +done their damnedest. They're up against something new. Scotland +Yard wouldn't do any better--or any other bunch of cops that I know +about." + +"But look here, Bill, you don't mean to tell me he'll keep on +getting away with it indefinitely?" + +The editor frowned. "Confidentially--I don't know," he said with +a chuckle: "The situation's this: for the first time the super-crook +--the super-crook of fiction--the kind that never makes a mistake +--has come to life--real life. And it'll take a cleverer man +than any Central Office dick I've ever met to catch him!" + +"Then you don't think he's just an ordinary crook with a lot of luck?" + +"I do not." The editor was emphatic. "He's much brainier. Got a +ghastly sense of humor, too. Look at the way he leaves his calling +card after every job--a black paper bat inside the Marshall safe +--a bat drawn on the wall with a burnt match where he'd jimmied the +Cedarburg Bank--a real bat, dead, tacked to the mantelpiece over +poor old Allison's body. Oh, he's in a class by himself--and I +very much doubt if he was a crook at all for most of his life." + +"You mean?" + +"I mean this. The police have been combing the underworld for him; +I don't think he comes from there. I think they've got to look +higher, up in our world, for a brilliant man with a kink in the +brain. He may be a Doctor, a lawyer, a merchant, honored in his +community by day--good line that, I'll use it some time--and at +night, a bloodthirsty assassin. Deacon Brodie--ever hear of him +--the Scotch deacon that burgled his parishioners' houses on the +quiet? Well--that's our man." + +"But my Lord, Bill--" + +"I know. I've been going around the last month, looking at +everybody I knew and thinking--are you the Bat? Try it for a +while. You'll want to sleep with a light in your room after a few +days of it. Look around the University Club--that white-haired +man over there--dignified--respectable--is he the Bat? Your own +lawyer--your own Doctor--your own best friend. Can happen you +know--look at those Chicago boys--the thrill-killers. Just +brilliant students--likeable boys--to the people that taught +them--and cold-bloodied murderers all the same." + +"Bill! You're giving me the shivers!" + +"Am I?" The edit or laughed grimly. "Think it over. No, it isn't +so pleasant.--But that's my theory--and I swear I think I'm right." +He rose. + +His companion laughed uncertainly. + +"How about you, Bill--are you the Bat?" + +The editor smiled. "See," he said, "it's got you already. No, I +can prove an alibi. The Bat's been laying off the city recently-- +taking a fling at some of the swell suburbs. Besides I haven't +the brains--I'm free to admit it." He struggled into his coat. +"Well, let's talk about something else. I'm sick of the Bat and +his murders." + +His companion rose as well, but it was evident that the editor's +theory had taken firm hold on his mind. As they went out the door +together he recurred to the subject. + +"Honestly, though, Bill--were you serious, really serious--when +you said you didn't know of a single detective with brains enough +to trap this devil?" + +The editor paused in the doorway. "Serious enough," he said. "And +yet there's one man--I don't know him myself but from what I've +heard of him, he might be able--but what's the use of speculating?" + +"I'd like to know all the same," insisted the other, and laughed +nervously. "We're moving out to the country next week ourselves +--right in the Bat's new territory." + +"We-el," said the editor, "you won't let it go any further? Of +course it's just an idea of mine, but if the Bat ever came prowling +around our place, the detective I'd try to get in touch with would +be--" He put his lips close to his companion's ear and whispered +a name. + +The man whose name he whispered, oddly enough, was at that moment +standing before his official superior in a quiet room not very far +away. Tall, reticently good-looking and well, if inconspicuously, +clothed and groomed, he by no means seemed the typical detective +that the editor had spoken of so scornfully. He looked something +like a college athlete who had kept up his training, something like +a pillar of one of the more sedate financial houses. He could +assume and discard a dozen manners in as many minutes, but, to the +casual observer, the one thing certain about him would probably +seem his utter lack of connection with the seamier side of existence. +The key to his real secret of life, however, lay in his eyes. When +in repose, as now, they were veiled and without unusual quality-- +but they were the eyes of a man who can wait and a man who can +strike. + +He stood perfectly easy before his chief for several moments before +the latter looked up from his papers. + +"Well, Anderson," he said at last, looking up, "I got your report +on the Wilhenry burglary this morning. I'll tell you this about +it--if you do a neater and quicker job in the next ten years, you +can take this desk away from me. I'll give it to you. As it is, +your name's gone up for promotion today; you deserved it long ago." + +"Thank you, sir," replied the tall man quietly, "but I had luck +with that case." + +"Of course you had luck," said the chief. "Sit down, won't you, and +have a cigar--if you can stand my brand. Of course you had luck, +Anderson, but that isn't the point. It takes a man with brains to +use a piece of luck as you used it. I've waited a long time here +for a man with your sort of brains and, by Judas, for a while I +thought they were all as dead as Pinkerton. But now I know there's +one of them alive at any rate--and it's a hell of a relief." + +"Thank you, sir," said the tall man, smiling and sitting down. +He took a cigar and lit it. "That makes it easier, sir--your +telling me that. Because--I've come to ask a favor." + +"All right," responded the chief promptly. "Whatever it is, it's +granted." + +Anderson smiled again. "You'd better hear what it is first, sir. +I don't want to put anything over on you." + +"Try it!" said the chief. "What is it--vacation? Take as long as +you like--within reason--you've earned it--I'll put it through +today." + +Anderson shook his head, "No sir--I don't want a vacation." + +"Well," said the chief impatiently. "Promotion? I've told you +about that. Expense money for anything--fill out a voucher and +I'll O.K. it--be best man at your wedding--by Judas, I'll even +do that!" + +Anderson laughed. "No, sir--I'm not getting married and--I'm +pleased about the promotion, of course--but it's not that. I want +to be assigned to a certain case--that's all." + +The chief's look grew searching. "H'm," he said. "Well, as I say, +anything within reason. What case do you want to be assigned to?" + +The muscles of Anderson's left hand tensed on the arm of his chair. +He looked squarely at the chief. "I want a chance at the Bat!" he +replied slowly. + +The chief's face became expressionless. "I said--anything within +reason," he responded softly, regarding Anderson keenly. + +"I want a chance at the Bat!" repeated Anderson stubbornly. "If +I've done good work so far--I want a chance at the Bat!" + +The chief drummed on the desk. Annoyance and surprise were in his +voice when he spoke. + +"But look here, Anderson," he burst out finally. "Anything else +and I'll--but what's the use? I said a minute ago, you had brains +--but now, by Judas, I doubt it! If anyone else wanted a chance +at the Bat, I'd give it to them and gladly--I'm hard-boiled. But +you're too valuable a man to be thrown away!" + +"I'm no more valuable than Wentworth would have been." + +"Maybe not--and look what happened to him! A bullet hole in his +heart--and thirty years of work that he might have done thrown +away! No, Anderson, I've found two first-class men since I've been +at this desk--Wentworth and you. He asked for his chance; I gave +it to him--turned him over to the Government--and lost him. Good +detectives aren't so plentiful that I can afford to lose you both." + +"Wentworth was a friend of mine," said Anderson softly. His knuckles +were white dints in the hand that gripped the chair. "Ever since +the Bat got him I've wanted my chance. Now my other work's cleaned +up--and I still want it." + +"But I tell you--" began the chief in tones of high exasperation. +Then he stopped and looked at his protege. There was a silence for +a time. + +"Oh, well--" said the chief finally in a hopeless voice. "Go ahead +--commit suicide--I'll send you a 'Gates Ajar' and a card, 'Here +lies a damn fool who would have been a great detective if he hadn't +been so pig-headed.' Go ahead!" + +Anderson rose. "Thank you, sir," he said in a deep voice. His eyes +had light in them now. "I can't thank you enough, sir." + +"Don't try," grumbled the chief. "If I weren't as much of a damn +fool as you are I wouldn't let you do it. And if I weren't so damn +old, I'd go after the slippery devil myself and let you sit here and +watch me get brought in with an infernal paper bat pinned where my +shield ought to be. The Bat's supernatural, Anderson. You haven't +a chance in the world but it does me good all the same to shake hands +with a man with brains and nerve," and he solemnly wrung Anderson's +hand in an iron grip. + +Anderson smiled. "The cagiest bat flies once too often," he said. +"I'm not promising anything, chief, but--" + +"Maybe," said the chief. "Now wait a minute, keep your shirt on, +you're not going out bat hunting this minute, you know--" + +"Sir? I thought I--" + +"Well, you're not," said the chief decidedly. "I've still some +little respect for my own intelligence and it tells me to get all +the work out of you I can, before you start wild-goose chasing after +this--this bat out of hell. The first time he's heard of again +--and it shouldn't be long from the fast way he works--you're +assigned to the case. That's understood. Till then, you do what +I tell you--and it'll be work, believe me!" + +"All right, sir," Anderson laughed and turned to the door. "And-- +thank you again." + +He went out. The door closed. The chief remained for some minutes +looking at the door and shaking his head. "The best man I've had +in years--except Wentworth," he murmured to himself. "And throwing +himself away--to be killed by a cold-blooded devil that nothing +human can catch--you're getting old, John Grogan--but, by Judas, +you can't blame him, can you? If you were a man in the prime like +him, by Judas, you'd be doing it yourself. And yet it'll go hard +--losing him--" + +He turned back to his desk and his papers. But for some minutes he +could not pay attention to the papers. There was a shadow on them +--a shadow that blurred the typed letters--the shadow of +bat's wings. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +THE INDOMITABLE MISS VAN GORDER + +Miss Cornelis Van Gorder, indomitable spinster, last bearer of a +name which had been great in New York when New York was a red-roofed +Nieuw Amsterdam and Peter Stuyvesant a parvenu, sat propped up in +bed in the green room of her newly rented country house reading the +morning newspaper. Thus seen, with an old soft Paisley shawl tucked +in about her thin shoulders and without the stately gray +transformation that adorned her on less intimate occasions,--she +looked much less formidable and more innocently placid than those +could ever have imagined who had only felt the bite of her tart wit +at such functions as the state Van Gorder dinners. Patrician to her +finger tips, independent to the roots of her hair, she preserved, at +sixty-five, a humorous and quenchless curiosity in regard to every +side of life, which even the full and crowded years that already lay +behind her had not entirely satisfied. She was an Age and an +Attitude, but she was more than that; she had grown old without +growing dull or losing touch with youth--her face had the delicate +strength of a fine cameo and her mild and youthful heart preserved +an innocent zest for adventure. + +Wide travel, social leadership, the world of art and books, a dozen +charities, an existence rich with diverse experience--all these +she had enjoyed energetically and to the full--but she felt, with +ingenious vanity, that there were still sides to her character which +even these had not brought to light. As a little girl she had +hesitated between wishing to be a locomotive engineer or a famous +bandit--and when she had found, at seven, that the accident of sex +would probably debar her from either occupation, she had resolved +fiercely that some time before she died she would show the world in +general and the Van Gorder clan in particular that a woman was quite +as capable of dangerous exploits as a man. So far her life, while +exciting enough at moments, had never actually been dangerous and +time was slipping away without giving her an opportunity to prove +her hardiness of heart. Whenever she thought of this the fact +annoyed her extremely--and she thought of it now. + +She threw down the morning paper disgustedly. Here she was at 65 +--rich, safe, settled for the summer in a delightful country place +with a good cook, excellent servants, beautiful gardens and grounds +--everything as respectable and comfortable as--as a limousine! +And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other, +floating over Niagara Falls in barrels, rescuing children from +burning houses, taming tigers, going to Africa to hunt gorillas, +doing all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara +Falls in a barrel; Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never +let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas; Sally Ogden, +her sister, would never let her hear the last of it. She could not +even, as she certainly would if the were a man, try and track down +this terrible creature, the Bat! + +She sniffed disgruntledly. Things came to her much too easily. +Take this very house she was living in. Ten days ago she had +decided on the spur of the moment--a decision suddenly crystallized +by a weariness of charitable committees and the noise and heat of +New York--to take a place in the country for the summer. It was +late in the renting season--even the ordinary difficulties of +finding a suitable spot would have added some spice to the quest-- +but this ideal place had practically fallen into her lap, with no +trouble or search at all. Courtleigh Fleming, president of the +Union Bank, who had built the house on a scale of comfortable +magnificence--Courtleigh Fleming had died suddenly in the West +when Miss Van Gorder was beginning her house hunting. The day after +his death her agent had called her up. Richard Fleming, Courtleigh +Fleming's nephew and heir, was anxious to rent the Fleming house at +once. If she made a quick decision it was hers for the summer, at +a bargain. Miss Van Gorder had decided at once; she took an innocent +pleasure in bargains. The next day the keys were hers--the servants +engaged to stay on--within a week she had moved. All very pleasant +and easy no doubt--adventure--pooh! + +And yet she could not really say that her move to the country had +brought her no adventures at all. There had been--things. Last +night the lights had gone off unexpectedly and Billy, the Japanese +butler and handy man, had said that he had seen a face at one of the +kitchen windows--a face that vanished when he went to the window. +Servants' nonsense, probably, but the servants seemed unusually +nervous for people who were used to the country. And Lizzie, of +course, had sworn that she had seen a man trying to get up the +stairs but Lizzie could grow hysterical over a creaking door. Still +--it was queer! And what had that affable Doctor Wells said to her +--"I respect your courage, Miss Van Gorder--moving out into the +Bat's home country, you know!" She picked up the paper again. +There was a map of the scene of the Bat's most recent exploits and, +yes, three of his recent crimes had been within a twenty-mile radius +of this very spot. She thought it over and gave a little shudder +of pleasurable fear. Then she dismissed the thought with a shrug. +No chance! She might live in a lonely house, two miles from the +railroad station, all summer long--and the Bat would never disturb +her. Nothing ever did. + +She had skimmed through the paper hurriedly; now a headline caught +her eye. Failure of Union Bank--wasn't that the bank of which +Courtleigh Fleming had been president? She settled down to read +the article but it was disappointingly brief. The Union Bank had +closed its doors; the cashier, a young man named Bailey, was +apparently under suspicion; the article mentioned Courtleigh +Fleming's recent and tragic death in the best vein of newspaperese. +She laid down the paper and thought--Bailey--Bailey--she seemed +to have a vague recollection of hearing about a young man named +Bailey who worked in a bank--but she could not remember where or +by whom his name had been mentioned. + +Well--it didn't matter. She had other things to think about. She +must ring for Lizzie--get up and dress. The bright morning sun, +streaming in through the long window, made lying in bed an old +woman's luxury and she refused to be an old woman. + +"Though the worst old woman I ever knew was a man!" she thought +with a satiric twinkle. She was glad Sally's daughter--young Dale +Ogden--was here in the house with her. The companionship of Dale's +bright youth would keep her from getting old-womanish if anything +could. + +She smiled, thinking of Dale. Dale was a nice child--her favorite +niece. Sally didn't understand her, of course--but Sally wouldn't. +Sally read magazine articles on the younger generation and its wild +ways. "Sally doesn't remember when she was a younger generation +herself," thought Miss Cornelia. "But I do--and if we didn't have +automobiles, we had buggies--and youth doesn't change its ways just +because it has cut its hair. Before Mr. and Mrs. Ogden left for +Europe, Sally had talked to her sister Cornelia ... long and +weightily, on the problem of Dale." "Problem of Dale, indeed!" +thought Miss Cornelia scornfully. "Dale's the nicest thing I've +seen in some time. She'd be ten times happier if Sally wasn't +always trying to marry her off to some young snip with more of +what fools call 'eligibility' than brains! But there, Cornelia +Van Gorder--Sally's given you your innings by rampaging off to +Europe and leaving Dale with you all summer and you've a lot less +sense than I flatter myself you have, if you can't give your +favorite niece a happy vacation from all her immediate family-- +and maybe find her someone who'll make her happy for good and all +in the bargain." Miss Cornelia was an incorrigible matchmaker. + +Nevertheless, she was more concerned with "the problem of Dale" +than she would have admitted. Dale, at her age, with her charm +and beauty--why, she ought to behave as if she were walking on +air, thought her aunt worriedly. "And instead she acts more as if +she were walking on pins and needles. She seems to like being +here--I know she likes me--I'm pretty sure she's just as pleased +to get a little holiday from Sally and Harry--she amuses herself-- +she falls in with any plan I want to make, and yet--" And yet +Dale was not happy--Miss Cornelia felt sure of it. "It isn't +natural for a girl to seem so lackluster and--and quiet--at her +age and she's nervous, too--as if something were preying on her +mind--particularly these last few days. If she were in love +with somebody--somebody Sally didn't approve of particularly-- +well, that would account for it, of course--but Sally didn't say +anything that would make me think that--or Dale either--though +I don't suppose Dale would, yet, even to me. I haven't seen so +much of her in these last two years--" + +Then Miss Cornelia's mind seized upon a sentence in a hurried flow +of her sister's last instructions--a sentence that had passed +almost unnoticed at the time--something about Dale and "an +unfortunate attachment--but of course, Cornelia, dear, she's so +young--and I'm sure it will come to nothing now her father and I +have made our attitude plain!" + +"Pshaw--I bet that's it," thought Miss Cornelia shrewdly. "Dale's +fallen in love, or thinks she has, with some decent young man without +a penny or an 'eligibility' to his name--and now she's unhappy +because her parents don't approve--or because she's trying to give +him up and finds she can't. Well--" and Miss Cornelia's tight little +gray curls trembled with the vehemence of her decision, "if the young +thing ever comes to me for advice I'll give her a piece of my mind +that will surprise her and scandalize Sally Van Gorder Ogden out of +her seven senses. Sally thinks nobody's worth looking at if they +didn't come over to America when our family did--she hasn't gumption +enough to realize that if some people hadn't come over later, we'd +all still be living on crullers and Dutch punch!" + +She was just stretching out her hand to ring for Lizzie when a knock +came at the door. She gathered her Paisley shawl more tightly about +her shoulders. "Who is it--oh, it's only you, Lizzie," as a +pleasant Irish face, crowned by an old-fashioned pompadour of +graying hair, peeped in at the door. "Good morning, Lizzie--I +was just going to ring for you. Has Miss Dale had breakfast--I +know it's shamefully late." + +"Good morning, Miss Neily," said Lizzie, "and a lovely morning it is, +too--if that was all of it," she added somewhat tartly as she came +into the room with a little silver tray whereupon the morning mail +reposed. + +We have not yet described Lizzie Allen--and she deserves +description. A fixture in the Van Gorder household since her +sixteenth year, she had long ere now attained the dignity of a +Tradition. The slip of a colleen fresh from Kerry had grown old +with her mistress, until the casual bond between mistress and +servant had changed into something deeper; more in keeping with +a better-mannered age than ours. One could not imagine Miss +Cornelia without a Lizzie to grumble at and cherish--or Lizzie +without a Miss Cornelia to baby and scold with the privileged +frankness of such old family servitors. The two were at once a +contrast and a complement. Fifty years of American ways had not +shaken Lizzie's firm belief in banshees and leprechauns or tamed +her wild Irish tongue; fifty years of Lizzie had not altered Miss +Cornelia's attitude of fond exasperation with some of Lizzie's +more startling eccentricities. Together they may have been, as +one of the younger Van Gorder cousins had, irreverently put it, +"a scream," but apart each would have felt lost without the other. + +"Now what do you mean--if that were all of it, Lizzie?" queried +Miss Cornelia sharply as she took her letters from the tray. + +Lizzie's face assumed an expression of doleful reticence. + +"It's not my place to speak," she said with a grim shake of her +head, "but I saw my grandmother last night, God rest her--plain as +life she was, the way she looked when they waked her--and if it +was my doing we'd be leaving this house this hour!" + +"Cheese-pudding for supper--of course you saw your grandmother!" +said Miss Cornelia crisply, slitting open the first of her letters +with a paper knife. "Nonsense, Lizzie, I'm not going to be scared +away from an ideal country place because you happen to have a bad +dream!" + +"Was it a bad dream I saw on the stairs last night when the lights +went out and I was looking for the candles?" said Lizzie heatedly. +"Was it a bad dream that ran away from me and out the back door, as +fast as Paddy's pig? No, Miss Neily, it was a man--Seven feet tall +he was, and eyes that shone in the dark and--" + +"Lizzie Allen!" + +"Well, it's true for all that," insisted Lizzie stubbornly. "And +why did the lights go out--tell me that, Miss Neily? They never +go out in the city." + +"Well, this isn't the city," said Miss Cornelia decisively. "It's +the country, and very nice it is, and we're staying here all summer. +I suppose I may be thankful," she went on ironically, "that it was +only your grandmother you saw last night. It might have been the +Bat--and then where would you be this morning?" + +"I'd be stiff and stark with candles at me head and feet," said +Lizzie gloomily. "Oh, Miss Neily, don't talk of that terrible +creature, the Bat!" She came nearer to her mistress. "There's bats +in this house, too--real bats," she whispered impressively. "I +saw one yesterday in the trunk room--the creature! It flew in the +window and nearly had the switch off me before I could get away!" + +Miss Cornelia chuckled. "Of course there are bats," she said. +"There are always bats in the country. They're perfectly harmless, +--except to switches." + +"And the Bat ye were talking of just then--he's harmless too, I +suppose?" said Lizzie with mournful satire. "Oh, Miss Neily, Miss +Neily--do let's go back to the city before he flies away with u + all!" + +"Nonsense, Lizzie," said Miss Cornelia again, but this time less +firmly. Her face grew serious. "If I thought for an instant that +there was any real possibility of our being in danger here--" she +said slowly. "But--oh, look at the map, Lizzie! The Bat has been +flying in this district--that's true enough--but he hasn't come +within ten miles of us yet!" + +"What's ten miles to the Bat?" the obdurate Lizzie sighed. "And +what of the letter ye had when ye first moved in here? 'The Fleming +house is unhealthy for strangers,' it said. Leave it while ye can." + +"Some silly boy or some crank." Miss Cornelia's voice was firm. "I +never pay any attention to anonymous letters." + +"And there's a funny-lookin' letter this mornin', down at the bottom +of the pile--" persisted Lizzie. "It looked like the other one. +I'd half a mind to throw it away before you saw it!" + +"Now, Lizzie, that's quite enough!" Miss Cornelia had the Van Gorder +manner on now. "I don't care to discuss your ridiculous fears any +further. Where is Miss Dale?" + +Lizzie assumed an attitude of prim rebuff, "Miss Dale's gone into +the city, ma'am." + +"Gone into the city?" + +"Yes, ma'am. She got a telephone call this morning, early--long +distance it was. I don't know who it was called her." + +"Lizzie! You didn't listen?" + +"Of course not, Miss Neily." Lizzie's face was a study in injured +virtue. "Miss Dale took the call in her own room and shut the door." + +"And you were outside the door?" + +"Where else would I be dustin' that time in the mornin'?" said +Lizzie fiercely. "But it's yourself knows well enough the doors +in this house is thick and not a sound goes past them." + +"I should hope not," said Miss Cornelia rebukingly. "But--tell +me, Lizzie, did Miss Dale seem--well--this morning?" + +"That she did not," said Lizzie promptly. "When she came down to +breakfast, after the call, she looked like a ghost. I made her +the eggs she likes, too--but she wouldn't eat 'em." + +"H'm," Miss Cornelia pondered. "I'm sorry if--well, Lizzie, we +mustn't meddle in Miss Dale's affairs." + +"No, ma'am." + +"But--did she say when she would be back?" + +"Yes, Miss Neily. On the two o'clock train. Oh, and I was almost +forgettin'--she told me to tell you, particular--she said while +he was in the city she'd be after engagin' the gardener you +spoke of." + +"The gardener? Oh, yes--I spoke to her about that the other night. +The place is beginning to look run down--so many flowers to attend +to. Well--that's very kind of Miss Dale." + +"Yes, Miss Neily." Lizzie hesitated, obviously with some weighty +news on her mind which she wished to impart. Finally she took the +plunge. "I might have told Miss Dale she could have been lookin' +for a cook as well--and a housemaid--" she muttered at last, +"but they hadn't spoken to me then." + +Miss Cornelia sat bolt upright in bed. "A cook--and a housemaid? +But we have a cook and a housemaid, Lizzie! You don't mean to tell +me--" + +Lizzie nodded her head. "Yes'm. They're leaving. Both of 'em. +Today." + +"But good heav-- Lizzie, why on earth didn't you tell me before?" + +Lizzie spoke soothingly, all the blarney of Kerry in her voice. +"Now, Miss Neily, as if I'd wake you first thing in the morning +with bad news like that! And thinks I, well, maybe 'tis all for +the best after all--for when Miss Neily hears they're leavin'-- +and her so particular--maybe she'll go back to the city for just +a little and leave this house to its haunts and its bats and--" + +"Go back to the city? I shall do nothing of the sort. I rented +this house to live in and live in it I will, with servants or +without them. You should have told me at once, Lizzie. I'm really +very much annoyed with you because you didn't. I shall get up +immediately--I want to give those two a piece of my mind. Is +Billy leaving too?" + +"Not that I know of--the heathern Japanese!" said Lizzie +sorrowfully. "And yet he'd be better riddance than cook or +housemaid." + +"Now, Lizzie, how many times have I told you that you must conquer +your prejudices? Billy is an excellent butler--he'd been with +Mr. Fleming ten years and has the very highest recommendations. I +am very glad that he is staying, if he is. With you to help him, +we shall do very well until I can get other servants." Miss +Cornelia had risen now and Lizzie was helping her with the +intricacies of her toilet. "But it's too annoying," she went on, +in the pauses of Lizzie's deft ministrations. "What did they say +to you, Lizzie--did they give any reason? It isn't as if they +were new to the country like you. They'd been with Mr. Fleming for +some time, though not as long as Billy." + +"Oh, yes, Miss Neily--they had reasons you could choke a goat with," +said Lizzie viciously as she arranged Miss Cornelia's transformation. +"Cook was the first of them--she was up late--I think they'd been +talking it over together. She comes into the kitchen with her hat +on and her bag in her hand. 'Good morning,' says I, pleasant enough, +'you've got your hat on,' says I. 'I'm leaving,' says she. 'Leaving, +are you?' says I. 'Leaving,' says she. 'My sister has twins,' +says she. 'I just got word--I must go to her right away.' 'What?' +says I, all struck in a heap. 'Twins,' says she, 'you've heard of +such things as twins.' 'That I have,' says I, 'and I know a lie on +a face when I see it, too.'" + +"Lizzie!" + +"Well, it made me sick at heart, Miss Neily. Her with her hat and +her bag and her talk about twins--and no consideration for you. +Well, I'll go on. 'You're a clever woman, aren't you?' says she +--the impudence! 'I can see through a millstone as far as most,' +says I--I wouldn't put up with her sauce. 'Well!' says she, 'you +can see that Annie the housemaid's leaving, too.' 'Has her sister +got twins as well?' says I and looked at her. 'No,' says she as +bold as brass, 'but Annie's got a pain in her side and she's feared +it's appendycitis--so she's leaving to go back to her family.' +'Oh,' says I, 'and what about Miss Van Gorder?' 'I'm sorry for +Miss Van Gorder,' says she--the falseness of her!--'But she'll +have to do the best she can for twins and appendycitis is acts of +God and not to be put aside for even the best of wages.' 'Is that +so?' says I and with that I left her, for I knew if I listened to +her a minute longer I'd be giving her bonnet a shake and that +wouldn't be respectable. So there you are, Miss Neily, and that's +the gist of the matter." + +Miss Cornelia laughed. "Lizzie--you're unique," she said. "But +I'm glad you didn't give her bonnet a shake--though I've no doubt +you could." + +"Humph!" said Lizzie snorting, the fire of battle in her eye. "And +is it any Black Irish from Ulster would play impudence to a +Kerrywoman without getting the flat of a hand in--but that's +neither here nor there. The truth of it is, Miss Neily," her voice +grew solemn, "it's my belief they're scared--both of them--by the +haunts and the banshees here--and that's all." + +"If they are they're very silly," said Miss Cornelia practically. +"No, they may have heard of a better place, though it would seem +as if when one pays the present extortionate wages and asks as +little as we do here--but it doesn't matter. If they want to go, +they may. Am I ready, Lizzie?" + +"You look like an angel, ma'am," said Lizzie, clasping her hands. + +"Well, I feel very little like one," said Miss Cornelia, rising. +"As cook and housemaid may discover before I'm through with them. +Send them into the livingroom, Lizzie, when I've gone down. I'll +talk to them there." + +An hour or so later, Miss Cornelia sat in a deep chintz chair in +the comfortable living-room of the Fleming house going through the +pile of letters which Lizzie's news of domestic revolt had +prevented her reading earlier. Cook and housemaid had come and +gone--civil enough, but so obviously determined upon leaving the +house at once that Miss Cornelia had sighed and let them go, though +not without caustic comment. Since then, she had devoted herself +to calling up various employment agencies without entirely +satisfactory results. A new cook and housemaid were promised for +the end of the week--but for the next three days the Japanese +butler, Billy, and Lizzie between them would have to bear the brunt +of the service. Oh, yes--and then there's Dale's gardener, if +she gets one, thought Miss, Cornelia. "I wish he could cook--but I +don't suppose gardeners can--and Billy's a treasure. Still, its +inconvenient--now, stop--Cornelia Van Gorder--you were asking for +an adventure only this morning and the moment the littlest sort of +one comes along, you want to crawl out of it." + +She had reached the bottom of her pile of letters--these to be +thrown away, these to be answered--ah, here was one she had +overlooked somehow. She took it up. It must be the one Lizzie +had wanted to throw away--she smiled at Lizzie's fears. The +address was badly typed, on cheap paper--she tore the envelope +open and drew out a single unsigned sheet. + +If you stay in this house any longer--DEATH. Go back to the city +at once and save your life. + +Her fingers trembled a little as she turned the missive over but +her face remained calm. She looked at the envelope--at the +postmark--while her heart thudded uncomfortably for a moment and +then resumed its normal beat. It had come at last--the adventure +--and she was not afraid! + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +PISTOL PRACTICE + +She knew who it was, of course. The Bat! No doubt of it. And yet +--did the Bat ever threaten before he struck? She could not +remember. But it didn't matter. The Bat was unprecedented-- +unique. At any rate, Bat or no Bat, she must think out a course +of action. The defection of cook and housemaid left her alone in +the house with Lizzie and Billy--and Dale, of course, if Dale +returned. Two old women, a young girl, and a Japanese butler to +face the most dangerous criminal in America, she thought grimly. +And yet--one couldn't be sure. The threatening letter might be +only a joke--a letter from a crank--after all. Still, she must +take precautions; look for aid somewhere. But where could she +look for aid? + +She ran over in her mind the new acquaintances she had made since +she moved to the country. There was Doctor Wells, the local +physician, who had joked with her about moving into the Bat's +home territory--He seemed an intelligent man--but she knew him +only slightly--she couldn't call a busy Doctor away from his +patients to investigate something which might only prove to be a +mare's-nest. The boys Dale had met at the country club--"Humph!" +she sniffed, "I'd rather trust my gumption than any of theirs." +The logical person to call on, of course, was Richard Fleming, +Courtleigh Fleming's nephew and heir, who had rented her the +house. He lived at the country club--she could probably reach +him now. She was just on the point of doing so when she decided +against it--partly from delicacy, partly from an indefinable +feeling that he would not be of much help. Besides, she thought +sturdily, it's my house now, not his. He didn't guarantee +burglar protection in the lease. + +As for the local police--her independence revolted at summoning +them. They would bombard her with ponderous questions and +undoubtedly think she was merely a nervous old spinster. If it +was just me, she thought, I swear I wouldn't say a word to +anybody--and if the Bat flew in he mightn't find it so easy to +fly out again, if I am sixty-five and never shot a burglar in my +life! But there's Dale--and Lizzie. I've got to be fair to them. + +For a moment she felt very helpless, very much alone. Then her +courage returned. + +"Pshaw, Cornelia, if you have got to get help--get the help you +want and hang the consequences!" she adjured herself. "You've +always hankered to see a first-class detective do his detecting-- +well, get one--or decide to do the job yourself. I'll bet you +could at that." + +She tiptoed to the main door of the living-room and closed it +cautiously, smiling as she did so. Lizzie might be about and +Lizzie would promptly go into hysterics if she got an inkling of +her mistress's present intentions. Then she went to the city +telephone and asked for long distance. + +When she had finished her telephoning, she looked at once relieved +and a little naughty--like a demure child who has carried out +some piece of innocent mischief unobserved. "My stars!" she +muttered to herself. "You never can tell what you can do till +you try." Then she sat down again and tried to think of other +measures of defense. + +Now if I were the Bat, or any criminal, she mused, how would I get +into this house? Well, that's it--I might get in 'most any way-- +it's so big and rambling. All the grounds you want to lurk in, +too; it'd take a company of police to shut them off. Then there's +the house itself. Let's see--third floor--trunk room, servants' +rooms--couldn't get in there very well except with a pretty long +ladder--that's all right. Second floor--well, I suppose a man +could get into my bedroom from the porch if he were an acrobat, but +he'd need to be a very good acrobat and there's no use borrowing +trouble. Downstairs is the problem, Cornelia, downstairs is the +problem. + +"Take this room now." She rose and examined it carefully. "There's +the door over there on the right that leads into the billiard room. +There's this door over here that leads into the hall. Then there's +that other door by the alcove, and all those French windows--whew!" +She shook her head. + +It was true. The room in which she stood, while comfortable and +charming, seemed unusually accessible to the night prowler. A row +of French windows at the rear gave upon a little terrace; below +the terrace, the drive curved about and beneath the billiard-room +windows in a hairpin loop, drawing up again at the main entrance +on the other side of the house. At the left of the French windows +(if one faced the terrace as Miss Cornelia was doing) was the +alcove door of which she spoke. When open, it disclosed a little +alcove, almost entirely devoted to the foot of a flight of stairs +that gave direct access to the upper regions of the house. The +alcove itself opened on one side upon the terrace and upon the +other into a large butler's pantry. The arrangement was obviously +designed so that, if necessary, one could pass directly from the +terrace to the downstairs service quarters or the second floor of +the house without going through the living-room, and so that trays +could be carried up from the pantry by the side stairs without +using the main staircase. + +The middle pair of French windows were open, forming a double +door. Miss Cornelia went over to them--shut them--tried the +locks. Humph! Flimsy enough! she thought. Then she turned toward +the billiard room. + +The billiard room, as has been said, was the last room to the right +in the main wing of the house. A single door led to it from the +living-room. Miss Cornelia passed through this door, glanced about +the billiard room, noting that most of its windows were too high +from the ground to greatly encourage a marauder. She locked the +only one that seemed to her particularly tempting--the billiard-room +window on the terrace side of the house. Then she returned to the +living-room and again considered her defenses. + +Three points of access from the terrace to the house--the door that +led into the alcove, the French windows of the living room--the +billiard-room window. On the other side of the house there was the +main entrance, the porch, the library and dining-room windows. The +main entrance led into a hall-living-room, and the main door of the +living-room was on the right as one entered, the dining-room and +library on the left, main staircase in front. "My mind is starting +to go round like a pinwheel, thinking of all those windows and doors," +she murmured to herself. She sat down once more, and taking a pencil +and a piece of paper drew a plan of the lower floor of the house. + +And now I've studied it, she thought after a while, I'm no further +than if I hadn't. As far as I can figure out, there are so many +ways for a clever man to get into this house that I'd have to be a +couple of Siamese twins to watch it properly. The next house I rent +in the country, she decided, just isn't going to have any windows +and doors--or I'll know the reason why. + +But of course she was not entirely shut off from the world, even +if the worst developed. She considered the telephone instruments +on a table near the wall, one the general phone, the other +connecting a house line which also connected with the garage and +the greenhouses. The garage would not be helpful, since Slocum, +her chauffeur for many years, had gone back to England for a visit. +Dale had been driving the car. But with an able-bodied man in the +gardener's house-- + +She pulled herself together with a jerk. + +"Cornelia Van Gorder, you're going to go crazy before nightfall if +you don't take hold of yourself. What you need is lunch and a nap +in the afternoon if you can make yourself take it. You'd better +look up that revolver of yours, too, that you bought when you thought +you were going to take a trip to China. You've never fired it off +yet, but you've got to sometime today--there's no other way of +telling if it will work. You can shut your eyes when you do it--no, +you can't either--that's silly. + +"Call you a spirited old lady, do they? Well, you never had a +better time to show your spirit than now!" + +And Miss Van Gorder, sighing, left the living-room to reach the +kitchen just in time to calm a heated argument between Lizzie and +Billy on the relative merits of Japanese and Irish-American cooking. + +Dale Ogden, taxiing up from the two o'clock train some time later, +to her surprise discovered the front door locked and rang for some +time before she could get an answer. At last, Billy appeared, +white-coated, with an inscrutable expression on his face. + +"Will you take my bag, Billy--thanks. Where is Miss Van Gorder +--taking a nap?" + +"No," said Billy succinctly. "She take no nap. She out in +srubbery shotting." + +Dale stared at him incredulously. "Shooting, Billy?" + +"Yes, ma'am. At least--she not shoot yet but she say she +going to soon." + +"But, good heavens, Billy--shooting what?" + +"Shotting pistol," said Billy, his yellow mask of a face preserving +its impish repose. He waved his hand. "You go srubbery. You see." + +The scene that met Dale's eyes when she finally found the "srubbery" +was indeed a singular one. Miss Van Gorder, her back firmly planted +against the trunk of a large elm tree and an expression of ineffable +distaste on her features, was holding out a blunt, deadly looking +revolver at arm's length. Its muzzle wavered, now pointing at the +ground, now at the sky. Behind the tree Lizzie sat in a heap, +moaning quietly to herself, and now and then appealing to the saints +to avert a visioned calamity. + +As Dale approached, unseen, the climax came. The revolver steadied, +pointed ferociously at an inoffensive grass-blade some 10 yards from +Miss Van Gorder and went off. Lizzie promptly gave vent to a shrill +Irish scream. Miss Van Gorder dropped the revolver like a hot potato +and opened her mouth to tell Lizzie not to be such a fool. Then she +saw Dale--her mouth went into a round O of horror and her hand +clutched weakly at her heart. + +"Good heavens, child!" she gasped. "Didn't Billy tell you what I +was doing? I might have shot you like a rabbit!" and, overcome +with emotion, she sat down on the ground and started to fan herself +mechanically with a cartridge. + +Dale couldn't help laughing--and the longer she looked at her aunt +the more she laughed--until that dignified lady joined in the mirth +herself. + +"Aunt Cornelia--Aunt Cornelia!" said Dale when she could get her +breath. "That I've lived to see the day--and they call US the wild +generation! Why on earth were you having pistol practice, darling-- +has Billy turned into a Japanese spy or what?" + +Miss Van Gorder rose from the ground with as much stateliness as she +could muster under the circumstances. + +"No, my dear--but there's no fool like an old fool--that's all," +she stated. "I've wanted to fire that infernal revolver off ever +since I bought it two years ago, and now I have and I'm satisfied. +Still," she went on thoughtfully, picking up the weapon, "it seems +a very good revolver--and shooting people must be much easier than +I supposed. All you have to do is to point the--the front of it-- +like this and--" + +"Oh, Miss Dale, dear Miss Dale!" came in woebegone accents from the +other side of the tree. "For the love of heaven, Miss Dale, say no +more but take it away from her--she'll have herself all riddled +through with bullets like a kitchen sieve--and me too--if she's +let to have it again." + +"Lizzie, I'm ashamed of you!" said Lizzie's mistress. "Come out +from behind that tree and stop wailing like a siren. This weapon is +perfectly safe in competent hands and--" She seemed on the verge +of another demonstration of its powers. + +"MISS DALE, FOR THE DEAR LOVE O' GOD WILL YOU MAKE HER PUT IT AWAY?" + +Dale laughed again. "I really think you'd better, Aunt Cornelia. +Or both of us will have to put Lizzie to bed with a case of acute +hysteria." + +"Well," said Miss Van Gorder, "perhaps you're right, dear." Her eyes +gleamed. "I should have liked to try it just once more though," she +confided. "I feel certain that I could hit that tree over there if +my eye wouldn't wink so when the thing goes off." + +"Now, it's winking eyes," said Lizzie on a note of tragic chant, "but +next time it'll be bleeding corpses and--" + +Dale added her own protestations to Lizzie's. "Please, darling, if +you really want to practice, Billy can fix up some sort of target +range--but I don't want my favorite aunt assassinated by a +ricocheted bullet before my eyes!" + +"Well, perhaps it would be best to try again another time," admitted +Miss Van Gorder. But there was a wistful look in her eyes as she +gave the revolver to Dale and the three started back to the house. + +"I should never have allowed Lizzie to know what I was doing," she +confided in a whisper, on the way. "A woman is perfectly capable of +managing firearms--but Lizzie is really too nervous to live, +sometimes." + +"I know just how you feel, darling," Dale agreed, suppressed mirth +shaking her as the little procession reached the terrace. "But--oh," +she could keep it no longer, "oh--you did look funny, darling-- +sitting under that tree, with Lizzie on the other side of it making +banshee noises and--" + +Miss Van Gorder laughed too, a little shamefacedly. + +"I must have," she said. "But--oh, you needn't shake your head, +Lizzie Allen--I am going to practice with it. There's no reason +I shouldn't and you never can tell when things like that might be +useful," she ended rather vaguely. She did not wish to alarm Dale +with her suspicions yet. + +"There, Dale--yes, put it in the drawer of the table--that will +reassure Lizzie. Lizzie, you might make us some lemonade, I think +--Miss Dale must be thirsty after her long, hot ride." + +"Yes, Miss Cornelia," said Lizzie, recovering her normal calm as +the revolver was shut away in the drawer of the large table in the +living-room. But she could not resist one parting shot. "And thank +God it's lemonade I'll be making--and not bandages for bullet +wounds!" she muttered darkly as she went toward the service quarters. + +Miss Van Gorder glared after her departing back. "Lizzie is really +impossible sometimes!" she said with stately ire. Then her voice +softened. "Though of course I couldn't do without her," she added. + +Dale stretched out on the settee opposite her aunt's chair. "I know +you couldn't, darling. Thanks for thinking of the lemonade." She +passed her hand over her forehead in a gesture of fatigue. "I AM +hot--and tired." + +Miss Van Gorder looked at her keenly. The young face seemed +curiously worn and haggard in the clear afternoon light. + +"You--you don't really feel very well, do you, Dale?" + +"Oh--it's nothing. I feel all right--really." + +"I could send for Doctor Wells if--" + +"Oh, heavens, no, Aunt Cornelia." She managed a wan smile. "It +isn't as bad as all that. I'm just tired and the city was terribly +hot and noisy and--" She stole a glance at her aunt from between +lowered lids. "I got your gardener, by the way," she said casually. + +"Did you, dear? That's splendid, though--but I'll tell you about +that later. Where did you get him?" + +"That good agency, I can't remember its name." Dale's hand moved +restlessly over her eyes, as if remembering details were too great +an effort. "But I'm sure he'll be satisfactory. He'll be out here +this evening--he--he couldn't get away before, I believe. What +have you been doing all day, darling?" + +Miss Cornelia hesitated. Now that Dale had returned she suddenly +wanted very much to talk over the various odd happenings of the day +with her--get the support of her youth and her common sense. Then +that independence which was so firmly rooted a characteristic of +hers restrained her. No use worrying the child unnecessarily; they +all might have to worry enough before tomorrow morning. + +She compromised. "We have had a domestic upheaval," she said. "The +cook and the housemaid have left--if you'd only waited till the next +train you could have had the pleasure of their company into town." + +"Aunt Cornelia--how exciting! I'm so sorry! Why did they leave?" + +"Why do servants ever leave a good place?" asked Miss Cornelia grimly. +"Because if they had sense enough to know when they were well off, +they wouldn't be servants. Anyhow, they've gone--we'll have to +depend on Lizzie and Billy the rest of this week. I telephoned--but +they couldn't promise me any others before Monday." + +"And I was in town and could have seen people for you--if I'd only +known!" said Dale remorsefully. "Only," she hesitated, "I mightn't +have had time--at least I mean there were some other things I had +to do, besides getting the gardener and--" She rose. "I think +I will go and lie down for a little if you don't mind, darling." + +Miss Van Gorder was concerned. "Of course I don't mind but--won't +you even have your lemonade?" + +"Oh, I'll get some from Lizzie in the pantry before I go up," Dale +managed to laugh. "I think I must have a headache after all," she +said. "Maybe I'll take an aspirin. Don't worry, darling." + +"I shan't. I only wish there were something I could do for you, my +dear." + +Dale stopped in the alcove doorway. "There's nothing anybody can do +for me, really," she said soberly. "At least--oh, I don't know +what I'm saying! But don't worry. I'm quite all right. I may go +over to the country club after dinner--and dance. Won't you come +with me, Aunt Cornelia?" + +"Depends on your escort," said Miss Cornelia tartly. "If our +landlord, Mr. Richard Fleming, is taking you I certainly shall--I +don't like his looks and never did!" + +Dale laughed. "Oh, he's all right," she said. "Drinks a good deal +and wastes a lot of money, but harmless enough. No, this is a very +sedate party; I'll be home early." + +"Well, in that case," said her aunt, "I shall stay here with my +Lizzie and my ouija-board. Lizzie deserves some punishment for the +very cowardly way she behaved this afternoon--and the ouija-board +will furnish it. She's scared to death to touch the thing. I think +she believes it's alive." + +"Well, maybe I'll send you a message on it from the country club," +said Dale lightly. She had paused, half-way up the flight of side +stairs in the alcove, and her aunt noticed how her shoulders drooped, +belying the lightness of her voice. "Oh," she went on, "by the way +--have the afternoon papers come yet? I didn't have time to get +one when I was rushing for the train." + +"I don't think so, dear, but I'll ask Lizzie." Miss Cornelia moved +toward a bell push. + +"Oh, don't bother; it doesn't matter. Only if they have, would you +ask Lizzie to bring me one when she brings up the lemonade? I want +to read about--about the Bat--he fascinates me." + +"There was something else in the paper this morning," said Miss +Cornelia idly. "Oh, yes--the Union Bank--the bank Mr. Fleming, +Senior, was president of has failed. They seem to think the cashier +robbed it. Did you see that, Dale?" + +The shoulders of the girl on the staircase straightened suddenly. +Then they drooped again. "Yes--I saw it," she said in a queerly +colorless voice. "Too bad. It must be terrible to--to have +everyone suspect you--and hunt you--as I suppose they're hunting +that poor cashier." + +"Well," said Miss Cornelia, "a man who wrecks a bank deserves very +little sympathy to my way of thinking. But then I'm old-fashioned. +Well, dear, I won't keep you. Run along--and if you want an +aspirin, there's a box in my top bureau-drawer." + +"Thanks, darling. Maybe I'll take one and maybe I won't--all I +really need is to lie down for a while." + +She moved on up the staircase and disappeared from the range of +Miss Cornelia's vision, leaving Miss Cornelia to ponder many things. +Her trip to the city had done Dale no good, of a certainty. If not +actually ill, she was obviously under some considerable mental +strain. And why this sudden interest, first in the Bat, then in +the failure of the Union Bank? Was it possible that Dale, too, had +been receiving threatening letters? + +I'll be glad when that gardener comes, she thought to herself. +He'll make a MAN in the house at any rate. + +When Lizzie at last came in with the lemonade she found her mistress +shaking her head. + +"Cornelia, Cornelia," she was murmuring to herself, "you should have +taken to pistol practice when you were younger; it just shows how +children waste their opportunities." + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +THE STORM GATHERS + +The long summer afternoon wore away, sunset came, red and angry, +a sunset presaging storm. A chill crept into the air with the +twilight. When night fell, it was not a night of silver patterns +enskied, but a dark and cloudy cloak where a few stars glittered +fitfully. Miss Cornelia, at dinner, saw a bat swoop past the +window of the dining room in its scurrying flight, and narrowly +escaped oversetting her glass of water with a nervous start. The +tension of waiting--waiting--for some vague menace which might +not materialize after all--had begun to prey on her nerves. She +saw Dale off to the country club with relief--the girl looked a +little better after her nap but she was still not her normal self. +When Dale was gone, she wandered restlessly for some time between +living-room and library, now giving an unnecessary dusting to a +piece of bric-a-brac with her handkerchief, now taking a book from +one of the shelves in the library only to throw it down before +she read a page. + +This house was queer. She would not have admitted it to Lizzie, +for her soul's salvation--but, for the first time in her sensible +life, she listened for creakings of woodwork, rustling of leaves, +stealthy steps outside, beyond the safe, bright squares of the +windows--for anything that was actual, tangible, not merely +formless fear. + +"There's too much ROOM in the country for things to happen to you!" +she confided to herself with a shiver. "Even the night--whenever +I look out, it seems to me as if the night were ten times bigger and +blacker than it ever is in New York!" + +To comfort herself she mentally rehearsed her telephone conversation +of the morning, the conversation she had not mentioned to her +household. At the time it had seemed to her most reassuring--the +plans she had based upon it adequate and sensible in the normal +light of day. But now the light of day had been blotted out and +with it her security. Her plans seemed weapons of paper against the +sinister might of the darkness beyond her windows. A little wind +wailed somewhere in that darkness like a beaten child--beyond the +hills thunder rumbled, drawing near, and with it lightning and the +storm. + +She made herself sit down in the chair beside her favorite lamp on +the center table and take up her knitting with stiff fingers. Knit +two--purl two--Her hands fell into the accustomed rhythm +mechanically--a spy, peering in through the French windows, would +have deemed her the picture of calm. But she had never felt less +calm in all the long years of her life. + +She wouldn't ring for Lizzie to come and sit with her, she simply +wouldn't. But she was very glad, nevertheless, when Lizzie appeared +at the door. + +"Miss Neily." + +"Yes, Lizzie?" Miss Cornelia's voice was composed but her heart +felt a throb of relief. + +"Can I--can I sit in here with you, Miss Neily, just a minute?" +Lizzie's voice was plaintive. "I've been sitting out in the kitchen +watching that Jap read his funny newspaper the wrong way and +listening for ghosts till I'm nearly crazy!" + +"Why, certainly, Lizzie," said Miss Cornelia primly. "Though," she +added doubtfully, "I really shouldn't pamper your absurd fears, I +suppose, but--" + +"Oh, please, Miss Neily!" + +"Very well," said Miss Cornelia brightly. "You can sit here, Lizzie +--and help me work the ouija-board. That will take your mind off +listening for things!" + +Lizzie groaned. "You know I'd rather be shot than touch that uncanny +ouijie!" she said dolefully. "It gives me the creeps every time I +put my hands on it!" + +"Well, of course, if you'd rather sit in the kitchen, Lizzie--" + +"Oh, give me the ouijie!" said Lizzie in tones of heartbreak. "I'd +rather be shot and stabbed than stay in the kitchen any more." + +"Very well," said Miss Cornelia, "it's your own decision, Lizzie-- +remember that." Her needles clicked on. "I'll just finish this +row before we start," she said. "You might call up the light company +in the meantime, Lizzie--there seems to be a storm coming up and I +want to find out if they intend to turn out the lights tonight as +they did last night. Tell them I find it most inconvenient to be +left without light that way." + +"It's worse than inconvenient," muttered Lizzie, "it's criminal-- +that's what it is--turning off all the lights in a haunted house, +like this one. As if spooks wasn't bad enough with the lights on--" + +"Lizzie!" + +"Yes, Miss Neily--I wasn't going to say another word." She went to +the telephone. Miss Cornelia knitted on--knit two--purl two-- In +spite of her experiments with the ouija-board she didn't believe in +ghosts--and yet--there were things one couldn't explain by logic. +Was there something like that in this house--a shadow walking the +corridors--a vague shape of evil, drifting like mist from room to +room, till its cold breath whispered on one's back and--there! She +had ruined her knitting, the last two rows would have to be ripped +out. That came of mooning about ghosts like a ninny. + +She put down the knitting with an exasperated little gesture. Lizzie +had just finished her telephoning and was hanging up the receiver. + +"Well, Lizzie?" + +"Yes'm," said the latter, glaring at the phone. "That's what he +says--they turned off the lights last night because there was a +storm threatening. He says it burns out their fuses if they leave +'em on in a storm." + +A louder roll of thunder punctuated her words. + +"There!" said Lizzie. "They'll be going off again to-night." She +took an uncertain step toward the French windows. + +"Humph!" said Miss Cornelia, "I hope it will be a dry summer." Her +hands tightened on each other. Darkness--darkness inside this +house of whispers to match with the darkness outside! She forced +herself to speak in a normal voice. + +"Ask Billy to bring some candles, Lizzie--and have them ready." + +Lizzie had been staring fixedly at the French windows. At Miss +Cornelia's command she gave a little jump of terror and moved closer +to her mistress. + +"You're not going to ask me to go out in that hall alone?" she said +in a hurt voice. + +It was too much. Miss Cornelia found vent for her feelings in crisp +exasperation. + +"What's the matter with you anyhow, Lizzie Allen?" + +The nervousness in her own tones infected Lizzie's. She shivered +frankly. + +"Oh, Miss Neily--Miss Neily!" she pleaded. "I don't like it! I +want to go back to the city!" + +Miss Cornelia braced herself. "I have rented this house for four +months and I am going to stay," she said firmly. Her eyes sought +Lizzie's, striving to pour some of her own inflexible courage into +the latter's quaking form. But Lizzie would not look at her. +Suddenly she started and gave a low scream; + +"There's somebody on the terrace!" she breathed in a ghastly +whisper, clutching at Miss Cornelia's arm. + +For a second Miss Cornelia sat frozen. Then, "Don't do that!" she +said sharply. "What nonsense!" but she, looked over her shoulder +as she said it and Lizzie saw the look. Both waited, in pulsing +stillness--one second--two. + +"I guess it was the wind," said Lizzie at last, relieved, her grip +on Miss Cornelia relaxing. She began to look a trifle ashamed of +herself and Miss Cornelia seized the opportunity. + +"You were born on a brick pavement," she said crushingly. "You get +nervous out here at night whenever a cricket begins to sing--or +scrape his legs--or whatever it is they do!" + +Lizzie bowed before the blast of her mistress's scorn and began to +move gingerly toward the alcove door. But obviously she was not +entirely convinced. + +"Oh, it's more than that, Miss Neily," she mumbled. "I--" + +Miss Cornelia turned to her fiercely. If Lizzie was going to behave +like this, they might as well have it out now between them--before +Dale came home. + +"What did you really see last night?" she said in a minatory voice. + +The instant relief on Lizzie's face was ludicrous; she so obviously +preferred discussing any subject at any length to braving the +dangers of the other part of the house unaccompanied. + +"I was standing right there at the top of that there staircase," +she began, gesticulating toward the alcove stairs in the manner of +one who embarks upon the narration of an epic. "Standing there +with your switch in my hand, Miss Neily--and then I looked down +and," her voice dropped, "I saw a gleaming eye! It looked at me +and winked! I tell you this house is haunted!" + +"A flirtatious ghost?" queried Miss Cornelia skeptically. She +snorted. "Humph! Why didn't you yell?" + +"I was too scared to yell! And I'm not the only one." She started +to back away from the alcove, her eyes still fixed upon its haunted +stairs. "Why do you think the servants left so sudden this morning?" +she went on. "Do you really believe the housemaid had appendicitis? +Or the cook's sister had twins?" + +She turned and gestured at her mistress with a long, pointed +forefinger. Her voice had a note of doom. + +"I bet a cent the cook never had any sister--and the sister never +had any twins," she said impressively. "No, Miss Neily, they +couldn't put it over on me like that! They were scared away. They +saw--It!" + +She concluded her epic and stood nodding her head, an Irish +Cassandra who had prophesied the evil to come. + +"Fiddlesticks!" said Miss Cornelia briskly, more shaken by the +recital than she would have admitted. She tried to think of another +topic of conversation. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +Lizzie glanced at the mantel clock. "Half-past ten, Miss Neily." + +Miss Cornelia yawned, a little dismally. She felt as if the last +two hours had not been hours but years. + +"Miss Dale won't be home for half an hour," she said reflectively. +And if I have to spend another thirty minutes listening to Lizzie +shiver, she thought, Dale will find me a nervous wreck when she +does come home. She rolled up her knitting and put it back in +her knitting-bag; it was no use going on, doing work that would +have to be ripped out again and yet she must do something to occupy +her thoughts. She raised her head and discovered Lizzie returning +toward the alcove stairs with the stealthy tread of a panther. The +sight exasperated her. + +"Now, Lizzie Allen!" she said sharply, "you forget all that +superstitious nonsense and stop looking for ghosts! There's nothing +in that sort of thing." She smiled--she would punish Lizzie for +her obdurate timorousness. "Where's that ouija-board?" she +questioned, rising, with determination in her eye. + +Lizzie shuddered violently. "It's up there--with a prayer book on +it to keep it quiet!" she groaned, jerking her thumb in the direction +of the farther bookcase. + +"Bring it here!" said Miss Cornelia implacably; then as Lizzie still +hesitated, "Lizzie!" + +Shivering, every movement of her body a conscious protest, Lizzie +slowly went over to the bookcase, lifted off the prayer book, and +took down the ouija-board. Even then she would not carry it normally +but bore it over to Miss Cornelia at arms'-length, as if any closer +contact would blast her with lightning, her face a comic mask of +loathing and repulsion. + +She placed the lettered board in Miss Cornelia's lap with a sigh +of relief. "You can do it yourself! I'll have none of it!" she +said firmly. + +"It takes two people and you know it, Lizzie Allen!" Miss Cornelia's +voice was stern but--it was also amused. + +Lizzie groaned, but she knew her mistress. She obeyed. She +carefully chose the farthest chair in the room and took a long time +bringing it over to where her mistress sat waiting. + +"I've been working for you for twenty years," she muttered. "I've +been your goat for twenty years and I've got a right to speak my +mind--" + +Miss Cornelia cut her off. "You haven't got a mind. Sit down," she +commanded. + +Lizzie sat--her hands at her sides. With a sigh of tried patience, +Miss Cornelia put her unwilling fingers on the little moving table +that is used to point to the letters on the board itself. Then she +placed her own hands on it, too, the tips of the fingers just +touching Lizzie's. + +"Now make your mind a blank!" she commanded her factotum. + +"You just said I haven't got any mind," complained the latter. + +"Well;" said Miss Cornelia magnificently, "make what you haven't +got a blank." + +The repartee silenced Lizzie for the moment, but only for the moment. +As soon as Miss Cornelia had settled herself comfortably and tried +to make her mind a suitable receiving station for ouija messages, +Lizzie began to mumble the sorrows of her heart. + +"I've stood by you through thick and thin," she mourned in a low +voice. "I stood by you when you were a vegetarian--I stood by you +when you were a theosophist--and I seen you through socialism, +Fletcherism and rheumatism--but when it comes to carrying on with +ghosts--" + +"Be still!" ordered Miss Cornelia. "Nothing will come if you keep +chattering!" + +"That's why I'm chattering!" said Lizzie, driven to the wall. "My +teeth are, too," she added. "I can hardly keep my upper set in," +and a desolate clicking of artificial molars attested the truth of +the remark. Then, to Miss Cornelia's relief, she was silent for +nearly two minutes, only to start so violently at the end of the +time that she nearly upset the ouija-board on her mistress's toes. + +"I've got a queer feeling in my fingers--all the way up my arms," +she whispered in awed accents, wriggling the arms she spoke of +violently. + +"Hush!" said Miss Cornelia indignantly. Lizzie always exaggerated, +of course--yet now her own fingers felt prickly, uncanny. There +was a little pause while both sat tense, staring at the board. + +"Now, Ouija," said Miss Cornelia defiantly, "is Lizzie Allen right +about this house or is it all stuff and nonsense?" + +For one second--two--the ouija remained anchored to its resting +place in the center of the board, Then-- + +"My Gawd! It's moving!" said Lizzie in tones of pure horror as the +little pointer began to wander among the letters. + +"You shoved it!" + +"I did not--cross my heart, Miss Neily--I--" Lizzie's eyes were +round, her fingers glued rigidly and awkwardly to the ouija. As +the movements of the pointer grew more rapid her mouth dropped +open--wider and wider--prepared for an ear-piercing scream. + +"Keep quiet!" said Miss Cornelia tensely. There was a pause of a +few seconds while the pointer darted from one letter to another +wildly. + +"B--M--C--X--P--R--S--K--Z--" murmured Miss Cornelia +trying to follow the spelled letters. + +"It's Russian!" gasped Lizzie breathlessly and Miss Cornelia nearly +disgraced herself in the eyes of any spirits that might be present +by inappropriate laughter. The ouija continued to move--more +letters--what was it spelling?--it couldn't be--good heavens-- +"B--A--T--Bat!" said Miss Cornelia with a tiny catch in her voice. + +The pointer stopped moving: She took her hands from the board. + +"That's queer," she said with a forced laugh. She glanced at Lizzie +to see how Lizzie was taking it. But the latter seemed too relieved +to have her hands off the ouija-board to make the mental connection +that her mistress had feared. + +All she said was, "Bats indeed! That shows it's spirits. There's +been a bat flying around this house all evening." + +She got up from her chair tentatively, obviously hoping that the +seance was over. + +"Oh, Miss Neily," she burst out. "Please let me sleep in your room +tonight! It's only when my jaw drops that I snore--I can tie it up +with a handkerchief!" + +"I wish you'd tie it up with a handkerchief now," said her mistress +absent-mindedly, still pondering the message that the pointer had +spelled. "B--A--T--Bat!" she murmured. Thought-transference-- +warning--accident? Whatever it was, it was--nerve-shaking. She +put the ouija-board aside. Accident or not, she was done with it +for the evening. But she could not so easily dispose of the Bat. +Sending a protesting Lizzie off for her reading glasses, Miss +Cornelia got the evening paper and settled down to what by now had +become her obsession. She had not far to search for a long black +streamer ran across the front page--"Bat Baffles Police Again." + +She skimmed through the article with eerie fascination, reading +bits of it aloud for Lizzie's benefit. + +"'Unique criminal--long baffled the police--record of his crimes +shows him to be endowed with an almost diabolical ingenuity--so +far there is no clue to his identity--'" Pleasant reading for +an old woman who's just received a threatening letter, she thought +ironically--ah, here was something new in a black-bordered box +on the front page--a statement by the paper. + +She read it aloud. "'We must cease combing the criminal world for +the Bat and look higher. He may be a merchant--a lawyer--a Doctor +--honored in his community by day and at night a bloodthirsty +assassin--'" The print blurred before her eyes, she could read no +more for the moment. She thought of the revolver in the drawer of +the table close at hand and felt glad that it was there, loaded. + +"I'm going to take the butcher knife to bed with me!" Lizzie was +saying. + +Miss Cornelia touched the ouija-board. "That thing certainly +spelled Bat," she remarked. "I wish I were a man. I'd like to see +any lawyer, Doctor, or merchant of my acquaintance leading a double +life without my suspecting it." + +"Every man leads a double life and some more than that," Lizzie +observed. "I guess it rests them, like it does me to take off my +corset." + +Miss Cornelia opened her mouth to rebuke her but just at that moment +there, was a clink of ice from the hall, and Billy, the Japanese, +entered carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and some glasses on +it. Miss Cornelia watched his impassive progress, wondering if the +Oriental races ever felt terror--she could not imagine all Lizzie's +banshees and kelpies producing a single shiver from Billy. He set +down the tray and was about to go as silently as he had come when +Miss Cornelia spoke to him on impulse. + +"Billy, what's all this about the cook's sister not having twins?" +she said in an offhand voice. She had not really discussed the +departure of the other servants with Billy before. "Did you happen +to know that this interesting event was anticipated?" + +Billy drew in his breath with a polite hiss. "Maybe she have +twins," he admitted. "It happen sometime. Mostly not expected." + +"Do you think there was any other reason for her leaving?" + +"Maybe," said Billy blandly. + +"Well, what was the reason?" + +"All say the same thing--house haunted." Billy's reply was prompt +as it was calm. + +Miss Cornelia gave a slight laugh. "You know better than that, +though, don't you?" + +Billy's Oriental placidity remained unruffled. He neither admitted +nor denied. He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Funny house," he said laconically. "Find window open--nobody +there. Door slam--nobody there!" + +On the heels of his words came a single, startling bang from the +kitchen quarters--the bang of a slammed door! + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +ALOPECIA AND RUBEOLA + +Miss Cornelia dropped her newspaper. Lizzie, frankly frightened, +gave a little squeal and moved closer to her mistress. Only Billy +remained impassive but even he looked sharply in the direction +whence the sound had come. + +Miss Cornelia was the first of the others to recover her poise. + +"Stop that! It was the wind!" she said, a little irritably--the +"Stop that!" addressed to Lizzie who seemed on the point of +squealing again. + +"I think not wind," said Billy. His very lack of perturbation added +weight to the statement. It made Miss Cornelia uneasy. She took +out her knitting again. + +"How long have you lived in this house, Billy?" + +"Since Mr. Fleming built." + +"H'm." Miss Cornelia pondered. "And this is the first time you +have been disturbed?" + +"Last two days only." Billy would have made an ideal witness in a +courtroom. He restricted himself so precisely to answering what +was asked of him in as few words as possible. + +Miss Cornelia ripped out a row in her knitting. She took a deep +breath. + +"What about that face Lizzie said you saw last night at the window?" +she asked in a steady voice. + +Billy grinned, as if slightly embarrassed. "Just face--that's all." + +"A--man's face?" + +He shrugged again. + +"Don't know--maybe. It there! It gone!" + +Miss Cornelia did not want to believe him--but she did. "Did you +go out after it?" she persisted. + +Billy's yellow grin grew wider. "No thanks," he said cheerfully +with ideal succinctness. + +Lizzie, meanwhile, had stood first on one foot and then on the +other during the interrogation, terror and morbid interest fighting +in her for mastery. Now she could hold herself in no longer. + +"Oh, Miss Neily!" she exploded in a graveyard moan, "last night +when the lights went out I had a token! My oil lamp was full of +oil but, do what I would, it kept going out, too--the minute I +shut my eyes out that lamp would go. There ain't a surer token +of death! The Bible says, 'Let your light shine'--and when a +hand you can't see puts your lights out--good night!" + +She ended in a hushed whisper and even Billy looked a trifle +uncomfortable after her climax. + +"Well, now that you've cheered us up," began Miss Cornelia +undauntedly, but a long, ominous roll of thunder that rattled the +panes in the French windows drowned out the end of her sentence. +Nevertheless she welcomed the thunder as a diversion. At least +its menace was a physical one--to be guarded against by physical +means. + +She rose and went over to the French windows. That flimsy bolt! +She parted the curtains and looked out--a flicker of lightning +stabbed the night--the storm must be almost upon them. + +"Bring some candles, Billy," she said. "The lights may be going +out any moment--and Billy," as he started to leave, "there's a +gentleman arriving on the last train. After he comes you may go +to bed. I'll wait up for Miss Dale--oh, and Billy," arresting +him at the door, "see that all the outer doors on this floor are +locked and bring the keys here." + +Billy nodded and departed. Miss Cornelia took a long breath. Now +that the moment for waiting had passed--the moment for action come +--she felt suddenly indomitable, prepared to face a dozen Bats! + +Her feelings were not shared by her maid. "I know what all this +means," moaned Lizzie. "I tell you there's going to be a death, +sure!" + +"There certainly will be if you don't keep quiet," said her +mistress acidly. "Lock the billiard-room windows and go to bed." + +But this was the last straw for Lizzie. A picture of the two +long, dark flights of stairs up which she had to pass to reach her +bedchamber rose before her--and she spoke her mind. + +"I am not going to bed!" she said wildly. "I'm going to pack up +tomorrow and leave this house." That such a threat would never be +carried out while she lived made little difference to her--she +was beyond the need of Truth's consolations. "I asked you on my +bended knees not to take this place two miles from a railroad," +she went on heatedly. "For mercy's sake, Miss Neily, let's go +back to the city before it's too late!" + +Miss Cornelia was inflexible. + +"I'm not going. You can make up your mind to that. I'm going to +find out what's wrong with this place if it takes all summer. I +came out to the country for a rest and I'm going to get it." + +"You'll get your heavenly rest!" mourned Lizzie, giving it up. She +looked pitifully at her mistress's face for a sign that the latter +might be weakening--but no such sign came. Instead, Miss Cornelia +seemed to grow more determined. + +"Besides," she said, suddenly deciding to share the secret she had +hugged to herself all day, "I might as well tell you, Lizzie. I'm +having a detective sent down tonight from police headquarters in +the city." + +"A detective?" Lizzie's face was horrified. "Miss Neily, you're +keeping something from me! You know something I don't know." + +"I hope so. I daresay he will be stupid enough. Most of them are. +But at least we can have one proper night's sleep." + +"Not I. I trust no man," said Lizzie. But Miss Cornelia had +picked up the paper again. + +"'The Bat's last crime was a particularly atrocious one,'" she +read. "'The body of the murdered man...'" + +But Lizzie could bear no more. + +"Why don't you read the funny page once in a while?" she wailed and +hurried to close the windows in the billiard room. The door leading +into the billiard room shut behind her. + +Miss Cornelia remained reading for a moment. Then--was that a +sound from the alcove? She dropped the paper, went into the alcove +and stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, listening. No-- +it must have been imagination. But, while she was here, she might +as well put on the spring lock that bolted the door from the alcove +to the terrace. She did so, returned to the living-room and +switched off the lights for a moment to look out at the coming storm. +It was closer now--the lightning flashes more continuous. She +turned on the lights again as Billy re-entered with three candles +and a box of matches. + +He put them down on a side table. + +"New gardener come," he said briefly to Miss Cornelia's back. + +Miss Cornelia turned. "Nice hour for him to get here. What's his +name?" + +"Say his name Brook," said Billy, a little doubtful. English names +still bothered him--he was never quite sure of them at first. + +Miss Cornelia thought. "Ask him to come in," she said. "And Billy +--where are the keys?" + +Billy silently took two keys from his pocket and laid them on the +table. Then he pointed to the terrace door which Miss Cornelia had +just bolted. + +"Door up there--spring lock," he said. + +"Yes." She nodded. "And the new bolt you put on today makes it +fairly secure. One thing is fairly sure, Billy. If anyone tries +to get in tonight, he will have to break a window and make a certain +amount of noise." + +But he only smiled his curious enigmatic smile and went out. And +no sooner had Miss Cornelia seated herself when the door of the +billiard room slammed open suddenly and Lizzie burst into the room +as if she had been shot from a gun--her hair wild--her face +stricken with fear. + +"I heard somebody yell out in the grounds--away down by the gate!" +she informed her mistress in a loud stage whisper which had a +curious note of pride in it, as if she were not too displeased at +seeing her doleful predictions so swiftly coming to pass. + +Miss Cornelia took her by the shoulder--half-startled, half-dubious. + +"What did they yell?" + +"Just yelled a yell!" + +"Lizzie!" + +"I heard them!" + +But she had cried "Wolf!" too often. + +"You take a liver pill," said her mistress disgustedly, "and go to +bed." + +Lizzie was about to protest both the verdict on her story and the +judgment on herself when the door in the hall was opened by Billy +to admit the new gardener. A handsome young fellow, in his late +twenties, he came two steps into the room and then stood there +respectfully with his cap in his hand, waiting for Miss Cornelia +to speak to him. + +After a swift glance of observation that gave her food for thought +she did so. + +"You are Brooks, the new gardener?" + +The young man inclined his head. + +"Yes, madam. The butler said you wanted to speak to me." + +Miss Cornelia regarded him anew. His hands look soft--for a +gardener's, she thought. And his manners seem much too good for one +--Still-- + +"Come in," she said briskly. The young man advanced another two +steps. "You're the man my niece engaged in the city this afternoon?" + +"Yes, madam." He seemed a little uneasy under her searching +scrutiny. She dropped her eyes. + +"I could not verify your references as the Brays are in Canada--" +she proceeded. + +The young man took an eager step forward. "I am sure if Mrs. Bray +were here--" he began, then flushed and stopped, twisting his cap. + +"Were here?" said Miss Cornelia in a curious voice. "Are you a +professional gardener?" + +"Yes." The young man's manner had grown a trifle defiant but Miss +Cornelia's next question followed remorselessly. + +"Know anything about hardy perennials?" she said in a soothing voice, +while Lizzie regarded the interview with wondering eyes. + +"Oh. yes," but the young man seemed curiously lacking in confidence. +"They--they're the ones that keep their leaves during the winter, +aren't they?" + +"Come over here--closer--" said Miss Cornelia imperiously. Once +more she scrutinized him and this time there was no doubt of his +discomfort under her stare. + +"Have you had any experience with rubeola?" she queried finally. + +"Oh, yes--yes--yes, indeed," the gardener stammered. "Yes." + +"And--alopecia?" pursued Miss Cornelia. + +The young man seemed to fumble in his mind for the characteristics +of such a flower or shrub. + +"The dry weather is very hard on alopecia," he asserted finally, +and was evidently relieved to see Miss Cornelia receive the +statement with a pleasant smile. + +"What do you think is the best treatment for urticaria?" she +propounded with a highly professional manner. + +It appeared to be a catch-question. The young man knotted his brows. +Finally a gleam of light seemed to come to him. + +"Urticaria frequently needs--er--thinning," he announced +decisively. + +"Needs scratching you mean!" Miss Cornelia rose with a snort of +disdain and faced him. "Young man, urticaria is hives, rubeola +is measles, and alopecia is baldness!" she thundered. She waited +a moment for his defense. None came. + +"Why did you tell me you were a professional gardener?" she went +on accusingly. "Why have you come here at this hour of night +pretending to be something you're not?" + +By all standards of drama the young man should have wilted before +her wrath, Instead he suddenly smiled at her, boyishly, and threw +up his hands in a gesture of defeat. + +"I know I shouldn't have done it!" he confessed with appealing +frankness. "You'd have found me out anyhow! I don't know anything +about gardening. The truth is," his tone grew somber, "I was desperate! +I HAD to have work!" + +The candor of his smile would have disarmed a stonier-hearted person +than Miss Cornelia. But her suspicions were still awake. + +"'That's all, is it?" + +"That's enough when you're down and out." His words had an +unmistakable accent of finality. She couldn't help wanting to +believe him, and yet, he wasn't what he had pretended to be--and +this night of all nights was no time to take people on trust! + +"How do I know you won't steal the spoons?" she queried, her voice +still gruff. + +"Are they nice spoons?" he asked with absurd seriousness. + +She couldn't help smiling at his tone. "Beautiful spoons." + +Again that engaging, boyish manner of his touched something in her +heart. + +"Spoons are a great temptation to me, Miss Van Gorder--but if +you'll take me, I'll promise to leave them alone." + +"That's extremely kind of you," she answered with grim humor, +knowing herself beaten. She went over to ring for Billy. + +Lizzie took the opportunity to gain her ear. + +"I don't trust him, Miss Neily! He's too smooth!" she whispered +warningly. + +Miss Cornelia stiffened. "I haven't asked for your opinion, +Lizzie," she said. + +But Lizzie was not to be put off by the Van Gorder manner. + +"Oh," she whispered, "you're just as bad as all the rest of 'em. +A good-looking man comes in the door and your brains fly out the +window!" + +Miss Cornelia quelled her with a gesture and turned back to the +young man. He was standing just where she had left him, his cap +in his hands--but, while her back had been turned, his eyes had +made a stealthy survey of the living-room--a survey that would +have made it plain to Miss Cornelia, if she had seen him, that his +interest in the Fleming establishment was not merely the casual +interest of a servant in his new place of abode. But she had not +seen and she could have told nothing from his present expression. + +"Have you had anything to eat lately?" she asked in a kindly voice. + +He looked down at his cap. "Not since this morning," he admitted +as Billy answered the bell. + +Miss Cornelia turned to the impassive Japanese. "Billy, give this +man something to eat and then show him where he is to sleep." + +She hesitated. The gardener's house was some distance from the +main building, and with the night and the approaching storm she +felt her own courage weakening. Into the bargain, whether this +stranger had lied about his gardening or not, she was curiously +attracted to him. + +"I think," she said slowly, "that I'll have you sleep in the house +here, at least for tonight. Tomorrow we can--the housemaid's room, +Billy," she told the butler. And before their departure she held +out a candle and a box of matches. + +"Better take these with you, Brooks," she said. "The local light +company crawls under its bed every time there is a thunderstorm. +Good night, Brooks." + +"Good night, ma'am," said the young man smiling. Following Billy +to the door, he paused. "You're being mighty good to me," he said +diffidently, smiled again, and disappeared after Billy. + +As the door closed behind them, Miss Cornelia found herself smiling +too. "That's a pleasant young fellow--no matter what he is," she +said to herself decidedly, and not even Lizzie's feverish "Haven't +you any sense taking strange men into the house? How do you know +he isn't the Bat?" could draw a reply from her. + +Again the thunder rolled as she straightened the papers and +magazines on the table and Lizzie gingerly took up the ouija-board +to replace it on the bookcase with the prayer book firmly on top of +it. And this time, with the roll of the thunder, the lights in the +living-room blinked uncertainly for an instant before they recovered +their normal brilliance. + +"There go the lights!" grumbled Lizzie, her fingers still touching +the prayer book, as if for protection. Miss Cornelia did not answer +her directly. + +"We'll put the detective in the blue room when he comes," she said. +"You'd better go up and see if it's all ready." + +Lizzie started to obey, going toward the alcove to ascend to the +second floor by the alcove stairs. But Miss Cornelia stopped her. + +"Lizzie--you know that stair rail's just been varnished. Miss +Dale got a stain on her sleeve there this afternoon--and Lizzie--" + +"Yes'm?" + +"No one is to know that he is a detective. Not even Billy." Miss +Cornelia was very firm. + +"Well, what'll I say he is?" + +"It's nobody's business." + +"A detective," moaned Lizzie, opening the hall door to go by the +main staircase. "Tiptoeing around with his eye to all the keyholes. +A body won't be safe in the bathtub." She shut the door with a +little slap and disappeared. Miss Cornelia sat down--she had many +things to think over--"if I ever get time really to think of +anything again," she thought, because with gardeners coming who +aren't gardeners--and Lizzie hearing yells in the grounds and-- + +She started slightly. The front door bell was ringing--a long +trill, uncannily loud in the quiet house. She sat rigid in her +chair, waiting. Billy came in. + +"Front door key, please?" he asked urbanely. She gave him the key. + +"Find out who it is before you unlock the door," she said. He +nodded. She heard him at the door, then a murmur of voices--Dale's +voice and another's--"Won't you come in for a few minutes? Oh, +thank you." She relaxed. + +The door opened; it was Dale. "How lovely she looks in that evening +wrap!" thought Miss Cornelia. But how tired, too. I wish I knew +what was worrying her. + +She smiled. "Aren't you back early, Dale?" + +Dale threw off her wrap and stood for a moment patting back into its +smooth, smart bob, hair ruffled by the wind. + +"I was tired," she said, sinking into a chair. + +"Not worried about anything?" Miss Cornelia's eyes were sharp. + +"No," said Dale without conviction, "but I've come here to be company +for you and I don't want to run away all the time." She picked up +the evening paper and looked at it without apparently seeing it. +Miss Cornelia heard voices in the hall--a man's voice--affable-- +"How have you been, Billy?"--Billy's voice in answer, "Very well, +sir." + +"Who's out there, Dale?" she queried. + +Dale looked up from the paper. "Doctor Wells, darling," she said +in a listless voice. "He brought me over from the club; I asked +him to come in for a few minutes. Billy's just taking his coat." +She rose, threw the paper aside, came over and kissed Miss Cornelia +suddenly and passionately--then before Miss Cornelia, a little +startled, could return the kiss, went over and sat on the settee +by the fireplace near the door of the billiard room. + +Miss Cornelia turned to her with a thousand questions on her tongue, +but before she could ask any of them, Billy was ushering in Doctor +Wells. + +As she shook hands with the Doctor, Miss Cornelia observed him with +casual interest--wondering why such a good-looking man, in his +early forties, apparently built for success, should be content with +the comparative rustication of his local practice. That shrewd, +rather aquiline face, with its keen gray eyes, would have found +itself more at home in a wider sphere of action, she thought--there +was just that touch of ruthlessness about it which makes or mars a +captain in the world's affairs. She found herself murmuring the +usual conventionalities of greeting. + +"Oh, I'm very well, Doctor, thank you. Well, many people at the +country club?" + +"Not very many," he said, with a shake of his head. "This failure +of the Union Bank has knocked a good many of the club members sky +high." + +"Just how did it happen?" Miss Cornelia was making conversation. + +"Oh, the usual thing." The Doctor took out his cigarette case. +"The cashier, a young chap named Bailey, looted the bank to the +tune of over a million." + +Dale turned sharply toward them from her seat by the fireplace. + +"How do you know the cashier did it?" she said in a low voice. + +The Doctor laughed. "Well--he's run away, for one thing. The bank +examiners found the deficit. Bailey, the cashier, went out on an +errand--and didn't come back. The method was simple enough-- +worthless bonds substituted for good ones--with a good bond on the +top and bottom of each package, so the packages would pass a casual +inspection. Probably been going on for some time." + +The fingers of Dale's right hand drummed restlessly on the edge of +her settee. + +"Couldn't somebody else have done it?" she queried tensely. + +The Doctor smiled, a trifle patronizingly. + +"Of course the president of the bank had access to the vaults," he +said. "But, as you know, Mr. Courtleigh Fleming, the late president, +was buried last Monday." + +Miss Cornelia had seen her niece's face light up oddly at the +beginning of the Doctor's statement--to relapse into lassitude +again at its conclusion. Bailey--Bailey--she was sure she +remembered that name--on Dale's lips. + +"Dale, dear, did you know this young Bailey?" she asked point-blank. + +The girl had started to light a cigarette. The flame wavered in +her fingers, the match went out. + +"Yes--slightly," she said. She bent to strike another match, +averting her face. Miss Cornelia did not press her. + +"What with bank robberies and communism and the income tax," she +said, turning the subject, "the only way to keep your money these +days is to spend it." + +"Or not to have any--like myself!" the Doctor agreed. + +"It seems strange," Miss Cornelia went on, "living in Courtleigh +Fleming's house. A month ago I'd never even heard of Mr. Fleming +--though I suppose I should have--and now--why, I'm as interested +in the failure of his bank as if I were a depositor!" + +The Doctor regarded the end of his cigarette. + +"As a matter of fact," he said pleasantly, "Dick Fleming had no +right to rent you the property before the estate was settled. He +must have done it the moment he received my telegram announcing his +uncle's death" + +"Were you with him when he died?" + +"Yes--in Colorado. He had angina pectoris and took me with him for +that reason. But with care he might have lived a considerable time. +The trouble was that he wouldn't use ordinary care. He ate and +drank more than he should, and so--" + +"I suppose," pursued Miss Cornelia, watching Dale out of the corner +of her eye, "that there is no suspicion that Courtleigh Fleming +robbed his own bank?" + +"Well, if he did," said the Doctor amicably, "I can testify that he +didn't have the loot with him." His tone grew more serious. "No! +He had his faults--but not that." + +Miss Cornelia made up her mind. She had resolved before not to +summon the Doctor for aid in her difficulties, but now that chance +had brought him here the opportunity seemed too good a one to let +slip. + +"Doctor," she said, "I think I ought to tell you something. Last +night and the night before, attempts were made to enter this house. +Once an intruder actually got in and was frightened away by Lizzie +at the top of that staircase." She indicated the alcove stairs. +"And twice I have received anonymous communications threatening my +life if I did not leave the house and go back to the city." + +Dale rose from her settee, startled. + +"I didn't know that, Auntie! How dreadful!" she gasped. + +Instantly Miss Cornelia regretted her impulse of confidence. She +tried to pass the matter off with tart humor. + +"Don't tell Lizzie," she said. "She'd yell like a siren. It's the +only thing she does like a siren, but she does it superbly!" + +For a moment it seemed as if Miss Cornelia had succeeded. The Doctor +smiled; Dale sat down again, her expression altering from one of +anxiety to one of amusement. Miss Cornelia opened her lips to dilate +further upon Lizzie's eccentricities. + +But just then there was a splintering crash of glass from one of the +French windows behind her! + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +DETECTIVE ANDERSON TAKES CHARGE + +"What's that?" + +"Somebody smashed a windowpane!" + +"And threw in a stone!" + +"Wait a minute, I'll--" The Doctor, all alert at once, ran into +the alcove and jerked at the terrace door. + +"It's bolted at the top, too," called Miss Cornelia. He nodded, +without wasting words on a reply, unbolted the door and dashed out +into the darkness of the terrace. Miss Cornelia saw him run past +the French windows and disappear into blackness. Meanwhile Dale, +her listlessness vanished before the shock of the strange occurrence, +had gone to the broken window and picked up the stone. It was +wrapped in paper; there seemed to be writing on the paper. She +closed the terrace door and brought the stone to her aunt. + +Miss Cornelia unwrapped the paper and smoothed out the sheet. + +Two lines of coarse, round handwriting sprawled across it: + + Take warning! Leave this house at once! It is threatened with + disaster which will involve you if you remain! + +There was no signature. + +"Who do you think wrote it?" asked Dale breathlessly. + +Miss Cornelia straightened up like a ramrod--indomitable. + +"A fool--that's who! If anything was calculated to make me stay +here forever, this sort of thing would do it!" + +She twitched the sheet of paper angrily. + +"But--something may happen, darling!" + +"I hope so! That's the reason I--" + +She stopped. The doorbell was ringing again--thrilling, insistent. +Her niece started at the sound. + +"Oh, don't let anybody in!" she besought Miss Cornelia as Billy +came in from the hall with his usual air of walking on velvet. + +"Key, front door please--bell ring," he explained tersely, taking +the key from the table. + +Miss Cornelia issued instructions. + +"See that the chain is on the door, Billy. Don't open it all the +way. And get the visitor's name before you let him in." + +She lowered her voice. + +"If he says he is Mr. Anderson, let him in and take him to the +library." + +Billy nodded and disappeared. Dale turned to her aunt, the color +out of her cheeks. + +"Anderson? Who is Mr.--" + +Miss Cornelia did not answer. She thought for a moment. Then she +put her hand on Dale's shoulder in a gesture of protective affection. + +"Dale, dear--you know how I love having you here--but it might be +better if you went back to the city." + +"Tonight, darling?" Dale managed a wan smile. But Miss Cornelia +seemed serious. + +"There's something behind all this disturbance--something I don't +understand. But I mean to." + +She glanced about to see if the Doctor was returning. She lowered +her voice. She drew Dale closer to her. + +"The man in the library is a detective from police headquarters," +she said. + +She had expected Dale to show surprise--excitement--but the white +mask of horror which the girl turned toward her appalled her. The +young body trembled under her hand for a moment like a leaf in the +storm. + +"Not--the police!" breathed Dale in tones of utter consternation. +Miss Cornelia could not understand why the news had stirred her +niece so deeply. But there was no time to puzzle it out, she heard +crunching steps on the terrace, the Doctor was returning. + +"Ssh!" she whispered. "It isn't necessary to tell the Doctor. I +think he's a sort of perambulating bedside gossip--and once it's +known the police are here we'll NEVER catch the criminals!" + +When the Doctor entered from the terrace, brushing drops of rain +from his no longer immaculate evening clothes, Dale was back on her +favorite settee and Miss Cornelia was poring over the mysterious +missive that had been wrapped about the stone. + +"He got away in the shrubbery," said the Doctor disgustedly, taking +out a handkerchief to fleck the spots of mud from his shoes. + +Miss Cornelia gave him the letter of warning. "Read this," she said. + +The Doctor adjusted a pair of pince-nez--read the two crude +sentences over--once--twice. Then he looked shrewdly at Miss +Cornelia. + +"Were the others like this?" he queried. + +She nodded. "Practically." + +He hesitated for a moment like a man with an unpleasant social duty +to face. + +"Miss Van Gorder, may I speak frankly?" + +"Generally speaking, I detest frankness," said that lady grimly. +"But--go on!" + +The Doctor tapped the letter. His face was wholly serious. + +"I think you ought to leave this house," he said bluntly. + +"Because of that letter? Humph!" His very seriousness, perversely +enough, made her suddenly wish to treat the whole matter as lightly +as possible. + +The Doctor repressed the obvious annoyance of a man who sees a +warning, given in all sobriety, unexpectedly taken as a quip. + +"There is some deviltry afoot," he persisted. "You are not safe +here, Miss Van Gorder." + +But if he was persistent in his attitude, so was she in hers. + +"I've been safe in all kinds of houses for sixty-odd years," she +said lightly. "It's time I had a bit of a change. Besides," she +gestured toward her defenses, "this house is as nearly impregnable +as I can make it. The window locks are sound enough, the doors are +locked, and the keys are there," she pointed to the keys lying on +the table. "As for the terrace door you just used," she went on, +"I had Billy put an extra bolt on it today. By the way, did you +bolt that door again?" She moved toward the alcove. + +"Yes, I did," said the Doctor quickly, still seeming unconvinced of +the wisdom of her attitude. + +"Miss Van Gorder, I confess--I'm very anxious for you," he +continued. "This letter is--ominous. Have you any enemies?" + +"Don't insult me! Of course I have. Enemies are an indication of +character." + +The Doctor's smile held both masculine pity and equally masculine +exasperation. He went on more gently. + +"Why not accept my hospitality in the village to-night?" he proposed +reasonably. "It's a little house but I'll make you comfortable. +Or," he threw out his hands in the gesture of one who reasons with +a willful child, "if you won't come to me, let me stay here!" + +Miss Cornelia hesitated for an instant. The proposition seemed +logical enough--more than that--sensible, safe. And yet, some +indefinable feeling--hardly strong enough to be called a premonition +--kept her from accepting it. Besides, she knew what the Doctor +did not, that help was waiting across the hall in the library. + +"Thank you, no, Doctor," she said briskly, before she had time to +change her mind. "I'm not easily frightened. And tomorrow I intend +to equip this entire house with burglar alarms on doors and windows!" +she went on defiantly. The incident, as far as she was concerned, +was closed. She moved on into the alcove. The Doctor stared at her, +shaking his head. + +She tried the terrace door. "There, I knew it!" she said +triumphantly. "Doctor--you didn't fasten that bolt!" + +The Doctor seemed a little taken aback. "Oh--I'm sorry--" he said. + +"You only pushed it part of the way," she explained. She completed +the task and stepped back into the living-room. "The only thing +that worries me now is that broken French window," she said +thoughtfully. "Anyone can reach a hand through it and open the +latch." She came down toward the settee where Dale was sitting. +"Please, Doctor!" + +"Oh--what are you going to do?" said the Doctor, coming out of a +brown study. + +"I'm going to barricade that window!" said Miss Cornelia firmly, +already struggling to lift one end of the settee. But now Dale +came to her rescue. + +"Oh, darling, you'll hurt yourself. Let me--" and between them, +the Doctor and Dale moved the heavy settee along until it stood +in front of the window in question. + +The Doctor stood up when the dusty task was finished, wiping his +hands. + +"It would take a furniture mover to get in there now!" he said +airily. + +Miss Cornelia smiled. + +"Well, Doctor--I'll say good night now--and thank you very much," +she said, extending her hand to the Doctor, who bowed over it +silently. "Don't keep this young lady up too late; she looks tired." +She flashed a look at Dale who stood staring out at the night. + +"I'll only smoke a cigarette," promised the Doctor. Once again his +voice had a note of plea in it. "You won't change your mind?" he +asked anew. + +Miss Van Gorder's smile was obdurate. "I have a great deal of mind," +she said. "It takes a long time to change it." + +Then, having exercised her feminine privilege of the last word, she +sailed out of the room, still smiling, and closed the door behind +her. + +The Doctor seemed a little nettled by her abrupt departure. + +"It may be mind," he said, turning back toward Dale, "but forgive me +if I say I think it seems more like foolhardy stubbornness!" + +Dale turned away from the window. "Then you think there is really +danger?" + +The Doctor's eyes were grave. + +"Well--those letters--" he dropped the letter on the table. +"They mean something. Here you are--isolated the village two +miles away--and enough shrubbery round the place to hide a +dozen assassins--" + +If his manner had been in the slightest degree melodramatic, Dale +would have found the ominous sentences more easy to discount. But +this calm, intent statement of fact was a chill touch at her heart. +And yet-- + +"But what enemies can Aunt Cornelia have?" she asked helplessly. + +"Any man will tell you what I do," said the Doctor with increasing +seriousness. He took a cigarette from his case and tapped it on +the case to emphasize his words. "This is no place for two women, +practically alone." + +Dale moved away from him restlessly, to warm her hands at the fire. +The Doctor gave a quick glance around the room. Then, unseen by her, +he stepped noiselessly over to the table, took the matchbox there +off its holder and slipped it into his pocket. It seemed a curiously +useless and meaningless gesture, but his next words evinced that the +action had been deliberate. + +"I don't seem to be able to find any matches--" he said with assumed +carelessness, fiddling with the matchbox holder. + +Dale turned away from the fire. "Oh, aren't there any? I'll get you +some," she said with automatic politeness, and departed to search for +them. + +The Doctor watched her go--saw the door close behind her. Instantly +his face set into tense and wary lines. He glanced about--then ran +lightly into the alcove and noiselessly unfastened the bolt on the +terrace door which he had pretended to fasten after his search of the +shrubbery. When Dale returned with the matches, he was back where +he had been when she had left him, glancing at a magazine on the +table. + +He thanked her urbanely as she offered him the box. "So sorry to +trouble you--but tobacco is the one drug every Doctor forbids his +patients and prescribes for himself." + +Dale smiled at the little joke. He lit his cigarette and drew in +the fragrant smoke with apparent gusto. But a moment later he had +crushed out the glowing end in an ash tray. + +"By the way, has Miss Van Gorder a revolver?" he queried casually, +glancing at his wrist watch. + +"Yes--she fired it off this afternoon to see if it would work." +Dale smiled at the memory. + +The Doctor, too, seemed amused. "If she tries to shoot anything-- +for goodness' sake stand behind her!" he advised. He glanced at +the wrist watch again. "Well--I must be going--" + +"If anything happens," said Dale slowly, "I shall telephone you at +once." + +Her words seemed to disturb the Doctor slightly--but only for a +second. He grew even more urbane. + +"I'll be home shortly after midnight," he said. "I'm stopping at +the Johnsons' on my way--one of their children is ill--or supposed +to be." He took a step toward the door, then he turned toward Dale +again. + +"Take a parting word of advice," he said. "The thing to do with a +midnight prowler is--let him alone. Lock your bedroom doors and +don't let anything bring you out till morning." He glanced at Dale +to see how she took the advice, his hand on the knob of the door. + +"Thank you," said Dale seriously. "Good night, Doctor--Billy will +let you out, he has the key." + +"By Jove!" laughed the Doctor, "you are careful, aren't you! The +place is like a fortress! Well--good night, Miss Dale--" + +"Good night." The door closed behind him--Dale was left alone. +Suddenly her composure left her, the fixed smile died. She stood +gazing ahead at nothing, her face a mask of terror and apprehension. +But it was like a curtain that had lifted for a moment on some +secret tragedy and then fallen again. When Billy returned with the +front door key she was as impassive as he was. + +"Has the new gardener come yet?" + +"He here," said Billy stolidly. "Name Brook." + +She was entirely herself once more when Billy, departing, held the +door open wide--to admit Miss Cornelia Van Gorder and a tall, +strong-featured man, quietly dressed, with reticent, piercing eyes +--the detective! + +Dale's first conscious emotion was one of complete surprise. She +had expected a heavy-set, blue-jowled vulgarian with a black cigar, +a battered derby, and stubby policeman's shoes. "Why this man's a +gentleman!" she thought. "At least he looks like one--and yet-- +you can tell from his face he'd have as little mercy as a steel trap +for anyone he had to--catch--" She shuddered uncontrollably. + +"Dale, dear," said Miss Cornelia with triumph in her voice. "This +is Mr. Anderson." + +The newcomer bowed politely, glancing at her casually and then +looking away. Miss Cornelia, however, was obviously in fine feather +and relishing to the utmost the presence of a real detective in the +house. + +"This is the room I spoke of," she said briskly. "All the +disturbances have taken place around that terrace door." + +The detective took three swift steps into the alcove, glanced about +it searchingly. He indicated the stairs. + +"That is not the main staircase?" + +"No, the main staircase is out there," Miss Cornelia waved her hand +in the direction of the hall. + +The detective came out of the alcove and paused by the French windows. + +"I think there must be a conspiracy between the Architects' +Association and the Housebreakers' Union these days," he said grimly. +"Look at all that glass. All a burglar needs is a piece of putty +and a diamond-cutter to break in." + +"But the curious thing is," continued Miss Cornelia, "that whoever +got into the house evidently had a key to that door." Again she +indicated the terrace door, but Anderson did not seem to be listening +to her. + +"Hello--what's this?" he said sharply, his eye lighting on the +broken glass below the shattered French window. He picked up a piece +of glass and examined it. + +Dale cleared her throat. "It was broken from the outside a few +minutes ago," she said. + +"The outside?" Instantly the detective had pulled aside a blind and +was staring out into the darkness. + +"Yes. And then that letter was thrown in." She pointed to the +threatening missive on the center table. + +Anderson picked it up, glanced through it, laid it down. All his +movements were quick and sure--each executed with the minimum +expense of effort. + +"H'm," he said in a calm voice that held a glint of humor. "Curious, +the anonymous letter complex! Apparently someone considers you an +undesirable tenant!" + +Miss Cornelia took up the tale. + +"There are some things I haven't told you yet," she said. "This +house belonged to the late Courtleigh Fleming." He glanced at her +sharply. + +"The Union Bank?" + +"Yes. I rented it for the summer and moved in last Monday. We have +not had a really quiet night since I came. The very first night I +saw a man with an electric flashlight making his way through the +shrubbery!" + +"You poor dear!" from Dale sympathetically. "And you were here +alone!" + +"Well, I had Lizzie. And," said Miss Cornelia with enormous +importance, opening the drawer of the center table, "I had my +revolver. I know so little about these things, Mr. Anderson, that +if I didn't hit a burglar, I knew I'd hit somebody or something!" +and she gazed with innocent awe directly down the muzzle of her +beloved weapon, then waved it with an airy gesture beneath the +detective's nose. + +Anderson gave an involuntary start, then his eyes lit up with grim +mirth. + +"Would you mind putting that away?" he said suavely. "I like to +get in the papers as much as anybody, but I don't want to have them +say--omit flowers." + +Miss Cornelia gave him a glare of offended pride, but he endured it +with such quiet equanimity that she merely replaced the revolver in +the drawer, with a hurt expression, and waited for him to open the +next topic of conversation. + +He finished his preliminary survey of the room and returned to her. + +"Now you say you don't think anybody has got upstairs yet?" he +queried. + +Miss Cornelia regarded the alcove stairs. + +"I think not. I'm a very light sleeper, especially since the papers +have been so full of the exploits of this criminal they call the +Bat. He's in them again tonight." She nodded toward the evening +paper. + +The detective smiled faintly. + +"Yes, he's contrived to surround himself with such an air of +mystery that it verges on the supernatural--or seems that way to +newspapermen." + +"I confess," admitted Miss Cornelia, "I've thought of him in this +connection." She looked at Anderson to see how he would take the +suggestion but the latter merely smiled again, this time more +broadly. + +"That's going rather a long way for a theory," he said. "And the +Bat is not in the habit of giving warnings." + +"Nevertheless," she insisted, "somebody has been trying to get into +this house, night after night." + +Anderson seemed to be revolving a theory in his mind. + +"Any liquor stored here?" he asked. + +Miss Cornelia nodded. "Yes." + +"What?" + +Miss Cornelia beamed at him maliciously. "Eleven bottles of +home-made elderberry wine." + +"You're safe." The detective smiled ruefully. He picked up the +evening paper, glanced at it, shook his head. "I'd forget the Bat +in all this. You can always tell when the Bat has had anything to +do with a crime. When he's through, he signs his name to it." + +Miss Cornelia sat bolt upright. "His name? I thought nobody knew +his name?" + +The detective made a little gesture of apology. "That was a figure +of speech. The newspapers named him the Bat because he moved with +incredible rapidity, always at night, and by signing his name I +mean he leaves the symbol of his identity--the Bat, which can see +in the dark." + +"I wish I could," said Miss Cornelia, striving to seem unimpressed. +"These country lights are always going out." + +Anderson's face grew stern. "Sometimes he draws the outline of a +bat at the scene of the crime. Once, in some way, he got hold of a +real bat, and nailed it to the wall." + +Dale, listening, could not repress a shudder at the gruesome picture +--and Miss Cornelia's hands gave an involuntary twitch as her +knitting needles clicked together. Anderson seemed by no means +unconscious of the effect he had created. + +"How many people in this house, Miss Van Gorder?" + +"My niece and myself." Miss Cornelia indicated Dale, who had picked +up her wrap and was starting to leave the room. "Lizzie Allen--who +has been my personal maid ever since I was a child--the Japanese +butler, and the gardener. The cook and the housemaid left this +morning--frightened away." + +She smiled as she finished her description. Dale reached the door +and passed slowly out into the hall. The detective gave her a +single, sharp glance as she made her exit. He seemed to think over +the factors Miss Cornelia had mentioned. + +"Well," he said, after a slight pause, "you can have a good night's +sleep tonight. I'll stay right here in the dark and watch." + +"Would you like some coffee to keep you awake?" + +Anderson nodded. "Thank you." His voice sank lower. "Do the +servants know who I am?" + +"Only Lizzie, my maid." + +His eyes fixed hers. "I wouldn't tell anyone I'm remaining up all +night," he said. + +A formless fear rose in Miss Cornelia's mind. "You don't suspect +my household?" she said in a low voice. + +He spoke with emphasis--all the more pronounced because of the +quietude of his tone. + +"I'm not taking any chances," he said determinedly. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +CROSS-QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS + +All unconscious of the slur just cast upon her forty years of +single-minded devotion to the Van Gorder family, Lizzie chose that +particular moment to open the door and make a little bob at her +mistress and the detective. + +"The gentleman's room is ready," she said meekly. In her mind she +was already beseeching her patron saint that she would not have to +show the gentleman to his room. Her ideas of detectives were +entirely drawn from sensational magazines and her private opinion +was that Anderson might have anything in his pocket from a set of +terrifying false whiskers to a bomb! + +Miss Cornelia, obedient to the detective's instructions, promptly +told the whitest of fibs for Lizzie's benefit. + +"The maid will show you to your room now and you can make yourself +comfortable for the night." There--that would mislead Lizzie, +without being quite a lie. + +"My toilet is made for an occasion like this when I've got my gun +loaded," answered Anderson carelessly. The allusion to the gun made +Lizzie start nervously, unhappily for her, for it drew his attention +to her and he now transfixed her with a stare. + +"This is the maid you referred to?" he inquired. Miss Cornelia +assented. He drew nearer to the unhappy Lizzie. + +"What's your name?" he asked, turning to her. + +"E-Elizabeth Allen," stammered Lizzie, feeling like a small and +distrustful sparrow in the toils of an officious python. + +Anderson seemed to run through a mental rogues gallery of other +criminals named Elizabeth Allen that he had known. + +"How old are you?" he proceeded. + +Lizzie looked at her mistress despairingly. "Have I got to answer +that?" she wailed. Miss Cornelia nodded--inexorably. + +Lizzie braced herself. "Thirty-two," she said, with an arch toss +of her head. + +The detective looked surprised and slightly amused. + +"She's fifty if she's a day," said Miss Cornelia treacherously in +spite of a look from Lizzie that would have melted a stone. + +The trace of a smile appeared and vanished on the detective's face. + +"Now, Lizzie," he said sternly, "do you ever walk in your sleep?" + +"I do not," said Lizzie indignantly. + +"Don't care for the country, I suppose?" + +"I do not!" + +"Or detectives?" Anderson deigned to be facetious. + +"I DO NOT!" There could be no doubt as to the sincerity of Lizzie's +answer. + +"All right, Lizzie. Be calm. I can stand it," said the detective +with treacherous suavity. But he favored her with a long and careful +scrutiny before he moved to the table and picked up the note that +had been thrown through the window. Quietly he extended it beneath +Lizzie's nose. + +"Ever see this before?" he said crisply, watching her face. + +Lizzie read the note with bulging eyes, her face horror-stricken. +When she had finished, she made a gesture of wild disclaimer that +nearly removed a portion of Anderson's left ear. + +"Mercy on us!" she moaned, mentally invoking not only her patron +saint but all the rosary of heaven to protect herself and her +mistress. + +But the detective still kept his eye on her. + +"Didn't write it yourself, did you?" he queried curtly. + +"I did not!" said Lizzie angrily. "I did not!" + +"And--you're sure you don't walk in your sleep?" The bare idea +strained Lizzie's nerves to the breaking point. + +"When I get into bed in this house I wouldn't put my feet out for +a million dollars!" she said with heartfelt candor. Even Anderson +was compelled to grin at this. + +"Then I won't ask you to," he said, relaxing considerably; "That's +more money than I'm worth, Lizzie." + +"Well, I'll say it is!" quoth Lizzie, now thoroughly aroused, and +flounced out of the room in high dudgeon, her pompadour bristling, +before he had time to interrogate her further. + +He replaced the note on the table and turned back to Miss Cornelia. +If he had found any clue to the mystery in Lizzie's demeanor, she +could not read it in his manner. + +"Now, what about the butler?" he said. + +"Nothing about him--except that he was Courtleigh Fleming's servant." + +Anderson paused. "Do you consider that significant?" + +A shadow appeared behind him deep in the alcove--a vague, +listening figure--Dale--on tiptoe, conspiratorial, taking pains +not to draw the attention of the others to her presence. But both +Miss Cornelia and Anderson were too engrossed in their conversation +to notice her. + +Miss Cornelia hesitated. + +"Isn't it possible that there is a connection between the colossal +theft at the Union Bank and these disturbances?" she said. + +Anderson seemed to think over the question. + +"What do you mean?" he asked as Dale slowly moved into the room from +the alcove, silently closing the alcove doors behind her, and still +unobserved. + +"Suppose," said Miss Cornelia slowly, "that Courtleigh Fleming took +that money from his own bank and concealed it in this house?" The +eavesdropper grew rigid. + +"That's the theory you gave headquarters, isn't it?" said Anderson. +"But I'll tell you how headquarters figures it out. In the first +place, the cashier is missing. In the second place, if Courtleigh +Fleming did it and got as far as Colorado, he had it with him when +he died, and the facts apparently don't bear that out. In the +third place, suppose he had hidden the money in or around this house. +Why did he rent it to you?" + +"But he didn't," said Miss Cornelia obstinately, "I leased this +house from his nephew, his heir." + +The detective smiled tolerantly. + +"Well, I wouldn't struggle like that for a theory," he said, the +professional note coming back to his voice. "The cashier's missing +--that's the answer." + +Miss Cornelia resented his offhand demolition of the mental +card-castle she had erected with such pride. + +"I have read a great deal on the detection of crime," she said hotly, +"and--" + +"Well, we all have our little hobbies," he said tolerantly. "A good +many people rather fancy themselves as detectives and run around +looking for clues under the impression that a clue is a big and vital +factor that sticks up like--well, like a sore thumb. The fact is +that the criminal takes care of the big and important factors. It's +only the little ones he may overlook. To go back to your friend the +Bat, it's because of his skill in little things that he's still at +large." + +"Then you don't think there's a chance that the money from the Union +Bank is in this house?" persisted Miss Cornelia. + +"I think it very unlikely." + +Miss Cornelia put her knitting away and rose. She still clung +tenaciously to her own theories but her belief in them had been +badly shaken. + +"If you'll come with me, I'll show you to your room," she said a +little stiffly. The detective stepped back to let her pass. + +"Sorry to spoil your little theory," he said, and followed her to +the door. If either had noticed the unobtrusive listener to their +conversation, neither made a sign. + +The moment the door had closed on them Dale sprang into action. +She seemed a different girl from the one who had left the room so +inconspicuously such a short time before. There were two bright +spots of color in her cheeks and she was obviously laboring under +great excitement. She went quickly to the alcove doors--they +opened softly--disclosing the young man who had said that he was +Brooks the new gardener--and yet not the same young man--for his +assumed air of servitude had dropped from him like a cloak, +revealing him as a young fellow at least of the same general social +class as Dale's if not a fellow-inhabitant of the select circle +where Van Gorders revolved about Van Gorders, and a man's +great-grandfather was more important than the man himself. + +Dale cautioned him with a warning finger as he advanced into the +room. + +"Sh! Sh!" she whispered. "Be careful! That man's a detective!" + +Brooks gave a hunted glance at the door into the hall. + +"Then they've traced me here," he said in a dejected voice. + +"I don't think so." + +He made a gesture of helplessness. + +"I couldn't get back to my rooms," he said in a whisper. "If +they've searched them," he paused, "as they're sure to--they'll +find your letters to me." He paused again. "Your aunt doesn't +suspect anything?" + +"No, I told her I'd engaged a gardener--and that's all there +was about it." + +He came nearer to her. "Dale!" he murmured in a tense voice. "You +know I didn't take that money!" he said with boyish simplicity. + +All the loyalty of first-love was in her answer. + +"Of course! I believe in you absolutely!" she said. He caught her +in his arms and kissed her--gratefully, passionately. Then the +galling memory of the predicament in which he stood, the hunt +already on his trail, came back to him. He released her gently, +still holding one of her hands. + +"But--the police here!" he stammered, turning away. "What does +that mean?" + +Dale swiftly informed him of the situation. + +"Aunt Cornelia says people have been trying to break into this +house for days--at night." + +Brooks ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of bewilderment. +Then he seemed to catch at a hope. + +"What sort of people?" he queried sharply. + +Dale was puzzled. "She doesn't know." + +The excitement in her lover's manner came to a head. "That proves +exactly what I've contended right along," he said, thudding one +fist softly in the palm of the other. "Through some underneath +channel old Fleming has been selling those securities for months, +turning them into cash. And somebody knows about it, and knows +that that money is hidden here. Don't you see? Your Aunt Cornelia +has crabbed the game by coming here." + +"Why didn't you tell the police that? Now they think, because you +ran away--" + +"Ran away! The only chance I had was a few hours to myself to try +to prove what actually happened." + +"Why don't you tell the detective what you think?" said Dale at her +wits' end. "That Courtleigh Fleming took the money and that it is +still here?" + +Her lover's face grew somber. + +"He'd take me into custody at once and I'd have no chance to search." + +He was searching now--his eyes roved about the living-room--walls-- +ceiling--hopefully--desperately--looking for a clue--the tiniest +clue to support his theory. + +"Why are you so sure it is here?" queried Dale. + +Brooks explained. "You must remember Fleming was no ordinary +defaulter and he had no intention of being exiled to a foreign +country. He wanted to come back here and take his place in the +community while I was in the pen." + +"But even then--" + +He interrupted her. "Listen, dear--" He crossed to the +billiard-room door, closed it firmly, returned. + +"The architect that built this house was an old friend of mine," +he said in hushed accents. "We were together in France and you +know the way fellows get to talking when they're far away and cut +off--" He paused, seeing the cruel gleam of the flame throwers +--two figures huddled in a foxhole, whiling away the terrible hours +of waiting by muttered talk. + +"Just an hour or two before--a shell got this friend of mine," he +resumed, "he told me he had built a hidden room in this house." + +"Where?" gasped Dale. + +Brooks shook his head. "I don't know. We never got to finish that +conversation. But I remember what he said. He said, 'You watch +old Fleming. If I get mine over here it won't break his heart. He +didn't want any living being to know about that room.'" + +Now Dale was as excited as he. + +"Then you think the money is in this hidden room?" + +"I do," said Brooks decidedly. "I don't think Fleming took it away +with him. He was too shrewd for that. No, he meant to come back all +right, the minute he got the word the bank had been looted. And he'd +fixed things so I'd be railroaded to prison--you wouldn't understand, +but it was pretty neat. And then the fool nephew rents this house +the minute he's dead, and whoever knows about the money--" + +"Jack! Why isn't it the nephew who is trying to break in?" + +"He wouldn't have to break in. He could make an excuse and come in +any time." + +He clenched his hands despairingly. + +"If I could only get hold of a blue-print of this place!" he muttered. + +Dale's face fell. It was sickening to be so close to the secret-- +and yet not find it. "Oh, Jack, I'm so confused and worried!" she +confessed, with a little sob. + +Brooks put his hands on her shoulders in an effort to cheer her +spirits. + +"Now listen, dear," he said firmly, "this isn't as hard as it sounds. +I've got a clear night to work in--and as true as I'm standing here, +that money's in this house. Listen, honey--it's like this." He +pantomimed the old nursery rhyme of The House that Jack Built, +"Here's the house that Courtleigh Fleming built--here, somewhere, +is the Hidden Room in the house that Courtleigh Fleming built--and +here--somewhere--pray Heaven--is the money--in the Hidden Room +--in the house that Courtleigh Fleming built. When you're low in +your mind, just say that over!" + +She managed a faint smile. "I've forgotten it already," she said, +drooping. + +He still strove for an offhand gaiety that he did not feel. + +"Why, look here!" and she followed the play of his hands obediently, +like a tired child, "it's a sort of game, dearest. 'Money, money-- +who's got the money?' You know!" For the dozenth time he stared at +the unrevealing walls of the room. "For that matter," he added, +"the Hidden Room may be behind these very walls." + +He looked about for a tool, a poker, anything that would sound the +walls and test them for hollow spaces. Ah, he had it--that driver +in the bag of golf clubs over in the corner. He got the driver and +stood wondering where he had best begin. That blank wall above the +fireplace looked as promising as any. He tapped it gently with the +golf club--afraid to make too much noise and yet anxious to test +the wall as thoroughly as possible. A dull, heavy reverberation +answered his stroke--nothing hollow there apparently. + +As he tried another spot, again thunder beat the long roll on its +iron drum outside, in the night. The lights blinked--wavered-- +recovered. + +"The lights are going out again," said Dale dully, her excitement +sunk into a stupefied calm. + +"Let them go! The less light the better for me. The only thing to +do is to go over this house room by room." He pointed to the billiard +room door. "What's in there?" + +"The billiard room." She was thinking hard. "Jack! Perhaps +Courtleigh Fleming's nephew would know where the blue-prints are!" + +He looked dubious. "It's a chance, but not a very good one," he +said. "Well--" He led the way into the billiard room and began +to rap at random upon its walls while Dale listened intently for +any echo that might betray the presence of a hidden chamber or +sliding panel. + +Thus it happened that Lizzie received the first real thrill of what +was to prove to her--and to others--a sensational and hideous +night. For, coming into the living-room to lay a cloth for Mr. +Anderson's night suppers not only did the lights blink threateningly +and the thunder roll, but a series of spirit raps was certainly to +be heard coming from the region of the billiard room. + +"Oh, my God!" she wailed, and the next instant the lights went out, +leaving her in inky darkness. With a loud shriek she bolted out +of the room. + +Thunder--lightning--dashing of rain on the streaming glass of +the windows--the storm hallooing its hounds. Dale huddled close +to her lover as they groped their way back to the living-room, +cautiously, doing their best to keep from stumbling against some +heavy piece of furniture whose fall would arouse the house. + +"There's a candle on the table, Jack, if I can find the table." +Her outstretched hands touched a familiar object. "Here it is." +She fumbled for a moment. "Have you any matches?" + +"Yes." He struck one--another--lit the candle--set it down on +the table. In the weak glow of the little taper, whose tiny flame +illuminated but a portion of the living-room, his face looked +tense and strained. + +"It's pretty nearly hopeless," he said, "if all the walls are +paneled like that." + +As if in mockery of his words and his quest, a muffled knocking +that seemed to come from the ceiling of the very room he stood in +answered his despair. + +"What's that?" gasped Dale. + +They listened. The knocking was repeated--knock--knock--knock +--knock. + +"Someone else is looking for the Hidden Room!" muttered Brooks, +gazing up at the ceiling intently, as if he could tear from it the +secret of this new mystery by sheer strength of will. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +THE GLEAMING EYE + +"It's upstairs!" Dale took a step toward the alcove stairs. Brooks +halted her. + +"Who's in this house besides ourselves?" he queried. + +"Only the detective, Aunt Cornelia, Lizzie, and Billy." + +"Billy's the Jap?" + +"Yes." + +Brooks paused an instant. "Does he belong to your aunt?" + +"No. He was Courtleigh Fleming's butler." + +Knock--knock--knock--knock the dull, methodical rapping on the +ceiling of the living-room began again. + +"Courtleigh Fleming's butler, eh?" muttered Brooks. He put down +his candle and stole noiselessly into the alcove. "It may be the +Jap!" he whispered. + +Knock--knock--knock--knock! This time the mysterious rapping +seemed to come from the upper hall. + +"If it is the Jap, I'll get him!" Brooks's voice was tense with +resolution. He hesitated--made for the hall door--tiptoed out +into the darkness around the main staircase, leaving Dale alone +in the living-room beset by shadowy terrors. + +Utter silence succeeded his noiseless departure. Even the storm +lulled for a moment. Dale stood thinking, wondering, searching +desperately for some way to help her lover. + +At last a resolution formed in her mind. She went to the city +telephone. + +"Hello," she said in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder now +and then to make sure she was not overheard. "1-2-4--please--yes, +that's right. Hello--is that the country club? Is Mr. Richard +Fleming there? Yes, I'll hold the wire." + +She looked about nervously. Had something moved in that corner of +blackness where her candle did not pierce? No! How silly of her! + +Buzz-buzz on the telephone. She picked up the receiver again. + +"Hello--is this Mr. Fleming? This is Miss Ogden--Dale Ogden. I +know it must seem odd my calling you this late, but--I wonder if +you could come over here for a few minutes. Yes--tonight." Her +voice grew stronger. "I wouldn't trouble you but--it's awfully +important. Hold the wire a moment." She put down the phone and +made another swift survey of the room, listened furtively at the +door--all clear! She returned to the phone. + +"Hello--Mr. Fleming--I'll wait outside the house on the drive. +It--it's a confidential matter. Thank you so much." + +She hung up the phone, relieved--not an instant too soon, for, as +she crossed toward the fireplace to add a new log to the dying glow +of the fire, the hall door opened and Anderson, the detective, came +softly in with an unlighted candle in his hand. + +Her composure almost deserted her. How much had he heard? What +deduction would he draw if he had heard? An assignation, perhaps! +Well, she could stand that; she could stand anything to secure the +next few hours of liberty for Jack. For that length of time she +and the law were at war; she and this man were at war. + +But his first words relieved her fears. + +"Spooky sort of place in the dark, isn't it?" he said casually. + +"Yes--rather." If he would only go away before Brooks came back +or Richard Fleming arrived! But he seemed in a distressingly +chatty frame of mind. + +"Left me upstairs without a match," continued Anderson. "I found +my way down by walking part of the way and falling the rest. Don't +suppose I'll ever find the room I left my toothbrush in!" He +laughed, lighting the candle in his hand from the candle on the +table. + +"You're not going to stay up all night, are you?" said Dale +nervously, hoping he would take the hint. But he seemed entirely +oblivious of such minor considerations as sleep. He took out a +cigar. + +"Oh, I may doze a bit," he said. He eyed her with a certain +approval. She was a darned pretty girl and she looked intelligent. +"I suppose you have a theory of your own about these intrusions +you've been having here? Or apparently having." + +"I knew nothing about them until tonight." + +"Still," he persisted conversationally, "you know about them now." +But when she remained silent, "Is Miss Van Gorder usually--of a +nervous temperament? Imagines she sees things, and all that?" + +"I don't think so." Dale's voice was strained. Where was Brooks? +What had happened to him? + +Anderson puffed on his cigar, pondering. "Know the Flemings?" he +asked. + +"I've met Mr. Richard Fleming once or twice." + +Something in her tone caused him to glance at her. "Nice fellow?" + +"I don't know him at all well." + +"Know the cashier of the Union Bank?" he shot at her suddenly. + +"No!" She strove desperately to make the denial convincing but she +could not hide the little tremor in her voice. + +The detective mused. + +"Fellow of good family, I understand," he said, eyeing her. "Very +popular. That's what's behind most of these bank embezzlements-- +men getting into society and spending more than they make." + +Dale hailed the tinkle of the city telephone with an inward sigh of +relief. The detective moved to answer the house phone on the wall +by the alcove, mistaking the direction of the ring. Dale corrected +him quickly. + +"No, the other one. That's the house phone." Anderson looked the +apparatus over. + +"No connection with the outside, eh?" + +"No," said Dale absent-mindedly. "Just from room to room in the +house." + +He accepted her explanation and answered the other telephone. + +"Hello--hello--what the--" He moved the receiver hook up and +down, without result, and gave it up. "This line sounds dead," he +said. + +"It was all right a few minutes ago," said Dale without thinking. + +"You were using it a few minutes ago?" + +She hesitated--what use to deny what she had already admitted, for +all practical purposes. + +"Yes." + +The city telephone rang again. The detective pounced upon it. + +"Hello--yes--yes--this is Anderson--go ahead." He paused, while +the tiny voice in the receiver buzzed for some seconds. Then he +interrupted it impatiently. + +"You're sure of that, are you? I see. All right. 'By." + +He hung up the receiver and turned swiftly on Dale. "Did I +understand you to say that you were not acquainted with the cashier +of the Union Bank?" he said to her with a new note in his voice. + +Dale stared ahead of her blankly. It had come! She did not reply. + +Anderson went on ruthlessly. + +"That was headquarters, Miss Ogden. They have found some letters +in Bailey's room which seem to indicate that you were not telling +the entire truth just now." + +He paused, waiting for her answer. "What letters?" she said wearily. + +"From you to Jack Bailey--showing that you had recently become +engaged to him." + +Dale decided to make a clean breast of it, or as clean a one as she +dared. + +"Very well," she said in an even voice, "that's true." + +"Why didn't you say so before?" There was menace beneath his +suavity. + +She thought swiftly. Apparent frankness seemed to be the only +resource left her. She gave him a candid smile. + +"It's been a secret. I haven't even told my aunt yet." Now she +let indignation color her tones. "How can the police be so stupid +as to accuse Jack Bailey, a young man and about to be married? Do +you think he would wreck his future like that?" + +"Some people wouldn't call it wrecking a future to lay away a +million dollars," said Anderson ominously. He came closer to Dale, +fixing her with his eyes. "Do you know where Bailey is now?" He +spoke slowly and menacingly. + +She did not flinch. + +"No." + +The detective paused. + +"Miss Ogden," he said, still with that hidden threat in his voice, +"in the last minute or so the Union Bank case and certain things +in this house have begun to tie up pretty close together. Bailey +disappeared this morning. Have you heard from him since?" + +Her eyes met his without weakening, her voice was cool and composed. + +"No." + +The detective did not comment on her answer. She could not tell +from his face whether he thought she had told the truth or lied. +He turned away from her brusquely. + +"I'll ask you to bring Miss Van Gorder here," he said in his +professional voice. + +"Why do you want her?" Dale blazed at him rebelliously. + +He was quiet. "Because this case is taking on a new phase." + +"You don't think I know anything about that money?" she said, a +little wildly, hoping that a display of sham anger might throw him +off the trail he seemed to be following. + +He seemed to accept her words, cynically, at their face value. + +"No," he said, "but you know somebody who does." Dale hesitated, +sought for a biting retort, found none. It did not matter; any +respite, no matter how momentary, from these probing questions, +would be a relief. She silently took one of the lighted candles +and left the living-room to search for her aunt. + +Left alone, the detective reflected for a moment, then picking +up the one lighted candle that remained, commenced a systematic +examination of the living-room. His methods were thorough, but +if, when he came to the end of his quest, he had made any new +discoveries, the reticent composure of his face did not betray the +fact. When he had finished he turned patiently toward the billiard +room--the little flame of his candle was swallowed up in its dark +recesses--he closed the door of the living-room behind him. The +storm was dying away now, but a few flashes of lightning still +flickered, lighting up the darkness of the deserted living-room +now and then with a harsh, brief glare. + +A lightning flash--a shadow cast abruptly on the shade of one of +the French windows, to disappear as abruptly as the flash was +blotted out--the shadow of a man--a prowler--feeling his way +through the lightning-slashed darkness to the terrace door. The +detective? Brooks? The Bat? The lightning flash was too brief +for any observer to have recognized the stealing shape--if any +observer had been there. + +But the lack of an observer was promptly remedied. Just as the +shadowy shape reached the terrace door and its shadow-fingers +closed over the knob, Lizzie entered the deserted living-room on +stumbling feet. She was carrying a tray of dishes and food--some +cold meat on a platter, a cup and saucer, a roll, a butter pat-- +and she walked slowly, with terror only one leap behind her and +blank darkness ahead. + +She had only reached the table and was preparing to deposit her +tray and beat a shameful retreat, when a sound behind her made her +turn. The key in the door from the terrace to the alcove had +clicked. Paralyzed with fright she stared and waited, and the next +moment a formless thing, a blacker shadow in a world of shadows, +passed swiftly in and up the small staircase. + +But not only a shadow. To Lizzie's terrified eyes it bore an eye, +a single gleaming eye, just above the level of the stair rail, and +this eye was turned on her. + +It was too much. She dropped the tray on the table with a crash +and gave vent to a piercing shriek that would have shamed the +siren of a fire engine. + +Miss Cornelia and Anderson, rushing in from the hall and the +billiard room respectively, each with a lighted candle, found her +gasping and clutching at the table for support. + +"For the love of heaven, what's wrong?" cried Miss Cornelia +irritatedly. The coffeepot she was carrying in her other hand +spilled a portion of its boiling contents on Lizzie's shoe and +Lizzie screamed anew and began to dance up and down on the +uninjured foot. + +"Oh, my foot--my foot!" she squealed hysterically. "My foot!" + +Miss Cornelia tried to shake her back to her senses. + +"My patience! Did you yell like that because you stubbed your toe?" + +"You scalded it!" cried Lizzie wildly. "It went up the staircase!" + +"Your toe went up the staircase?" + +"No, no! An eye--an eye as big as a saucer! It ran right up that +staircase--" She indicated the alcove with a trembling forefinger. +Miss Cornelia put her coffeepot and her candle down on the table +and opened her mouth to express her frank opinion of her factotum's +sanity. But here the detective took charge. + +"Now see here," he said with some sternness to the quaking Lizzie, +"stop this racket and tell me what you saw!" + +"A ghost!" persisted Lizzie, still hopping around on one leg. "It +came right through that door and ran up the stairs--oh--" and she +seemed prepared to scream again as Dale, white-faced, came in from +the hall, followed by Billy and Brooks, the latter holding still +another candle. + +"Who screamed?" said Dale tensely. + +"I did!" Lizzie wailed, "I saw a ghost!" She turned to Miss +Cornelia. "I begged you not to come here," she vociferated. "I +begged you on my bended knees. There's a graveyard not a quarter +of a mile away." + +"Yes, and one more scare like that, Lizzie Allen, and you'll have +me lying in it," said her mistress unsympathetically. She moved up +to examine the scene of Lizzie's ghostly misadventure, while +Anderson began to interrogate its heroine. + +"Now, Lizzie," he said, forcing himself to urbanity, "what did you +really see?" + +"I told you what I saw." + +His manner grew somewhat threatening. + +"You're not trying to frighten Miss Van Gorder into leaving this +house and going back to the city?" + +"Well, if I am," said Lizzie with grim, unconscious humor, "I'm +giving myself an awful good scare, too, ain't I?" + +The two glared at each other as Miss Cornelia returned from her +survey of the alcove. + +"Somebody who had a key could have got in here, Mr. Anderson," +she said annoyedly. "That terrace door's been unbolted from the +inside." + +Lizzie groaned. "I told you so," she wailed. "I knew something +was going to happen tonight. I heard rappings all over the house +today, and the ouija-board spelled Bat!" + +The detective recovered his poise. "I think I see the answer to +your puzzle, Miss Van Gorder," he said, with a scornful glance at +Lizzie. "A hysterical and not very reliable woman, anxious to go +back to the city and terrified over and over by the shutting off of +the electric lights." + +If looks could slay, his characterization of Lizzie would have laid +him dead at her feet at that instant. Miss Van Gorder considered +his theory. + +"I wonder," she said. + +The detective rubbed his hands together more cheerfully. + +"A good night's sleep and--" he began, but the irrepressible Lizzie +interrupted him. + +"My God, we're not going to bed, are we?" she said, with her eyes as +big as saucers. + +He gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder, which she obviously +resented. + +"You'll feel better in the morning," he said. "Lock your door and +say your prayers, and leave the rest to me." + +Lizzie muttered something inaudible and rebellious, but now Miss +Cornelia added her protestations to his. + +"That's very good advice," she said decisively. "You take her, +Dale." + +Reluctantly, with a dragging of feet and scared glances cast back +over her shoulder, Lizzie allowed herself to be drawn toward the +door and the main staircase by Dale. But she did not depart +without one Parthian shot. + +"I'm not going to bed!" she wailed as Dale's strong young arm helped +her out into the hall. "Do you think I want to wake up in the +morning with my throat cut?" Then the creaking of the stairs, and +Dale's soothing voice reassuring her as she painfully clambered +toward the third floor, announced that Lizzie, for some time at +least, had been removed as an active factor from the puzzling +equation of Cedarcrest. + +Anderson confronted Miss Cornelia with certain relief. + +"There are certain things I want to discuss with you, Miss Van +Gorder," he said. "But they can wait until tomorrow morning." + +Miss Cornelia glanced about the room. His manner was reassuring. + +"Do you think all this--pure imagination?" she said. + +"Don't you?" + +She hesitated. "I'm not sure." + +He laughed. "I'll tell you what I'll do. You go upstairs and go +to bed comfortably. I'll make a careful search of the house before +I settle down, and if I find anything at all suspicious, I'll +promise to let you know." + +She agreed to that, and after sending the Jap out for more coffee +prepared to go upstairs. + +Never had the thought of her own comfortable bed appealed to her +so much. But, in spite of her weariness, she could not quite resign +herself to take Lizzie's story as lightly as the detective seemed to. + +"If what Lizzie says is true," she said, taking her candle, "the +upper floors of the house are even less safe than this one." + +"I imagine Lizzie's account just now is about as reliable as her +previous one as to her age," Anderson assured her. "I'm certain you +need not worry. Just go on up and get your beauty sleep; I'm sure +you need it." + +On which ambiguous remark Miss Van Gorder took her leave, rather +grimly smiling. + +It was after she had gone that Anderson's glance fell on Brooks, +standing warily in the doorway. + +"What are you? The gardener?" + +But Brooks was prepared for him. + +"Ordinarily I drive a car," he said. "Just now I'm working on the +place here." + +Anderson was observing him closely, with the eyes of a man ransacking +his memory for a name--a picture. "I've seen you somewhere--" he +went on slowly. "And I'll--place you before long." There was a +little threat in his shrewd scrutiny. He took a step toward Brooks. + +"Not in the portrait gallery at headquarters, are you?" + +"Not yet." Brooks's voice was resentful. Then he remembered his pose +and his back grew supple, his whole attitude that of the respectful +servant. + +"Well, we slip up now and then," said the detective slowly. Then, +apparently, he gave up his search for the name--the pictured face. +But his manner was still suspicious. + +"All right, Brooks," he said tersely, "if you're needed in the night, +you'll be called!" + +Brooks bowed. "Very well, sir." He closed the door softly behind +him, glad to have escaped as well as he had. + +But that he had not entirely lulled the detective's watchfulness to +rest was evident as soon as he had gone. Anderson waited a few +seconds, then moved noiselessly over to the hall door--listened-- +opened it suddenly--closed it again. Then he proceeded to examine +the alcove--the stairs, where the gleaming eye had wavered like a +corpse-candle before Lizzie's affrighted vision. He tested the +terrace door and bolted it. How much truth had there been in her +story? He could not decide, but he drew out his revolver +nevertheless and gave it a quick inspection to see if it was in +working order. A smile crept over his face--the smile of a man +who has dangerous work to do and does not shrink from the prospect. +He put the revolver back in his pocket and, taking the one lighted +candle remaining, went out by the hall door, as the storm burst +forth in fresh fury and the window-panes of the living-room +rattled before a new reverberation of thunder. + +For a moment, in the living-room, except for the thunder, all was +silence. Then the creak of surreptitious footsteps broke the +stillness--light footsteps descending the alcove stairs where the +gleaming eye had passed. + +It was Dale slipping out of the house to keep her appointment with +Richard Fleming. She carried a raincoat over her arm and a pair of +rubbers in one hand. Her other hand held a candle. By the terrace +door she paused, unbolted it, glanced out into the streaming night +with a shiver. Then she came into the living-room and sat down to +put on her rubbers. + +Hardly had she begun to do so when she started up again. A muffled +knocking sounded at the terrace door. It was ominous and determined, +and in a panic of terror she rose to her feet. If it was the law, +come after Jack, what should she do? Or again, suppose it was the +Unknown who had threatened them with death? Not coherent thoughts +these, but chaotic, bringing panic with them. Almost unconscious of +what she was doing, she reached into the drawer beside her, secured +the revolver there and leveled it at the door. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +A SHOT IN THE DARK + +A key clicked in the terrace door--a voice swore muffledly at the +rain. Dale lowered her revolver slowly. It was Richard Fleming-- +come to meet her here, instead of down by the drive. + +She had telephoned him on an impulse. But now, as she looked at +him in the light of her single candle, she wondered if this rather +dissipated, rather foppish young man about town, in his early +thirties, could possibly understand and appreciate the motives that +had driven her to seek his aid. Still, it was for Jack! She +clenched her teeth and resolved to go through with the plan mapped +out in her mind. It might be a desperate expedient but she had +nowhere else to turn! + +Fleming shut the terrace door behind him and moved down from the +alcove, trying to shake the rain from his coat. + +"Did I frighten you?" + +"Oh, Mr. Fleming--yes!" Dale laid her aunt's revolver down on the +table. Fleming perceived her nervousness and made a gesture of +apology. + +"I'm sorry," he said, "I rapped but nobody seemed to hear me, so I +used my key." + +"You're wet through--I'm sorry," said Dale with mechanical +politeness. + +He smiled. "Oh, no." He stripped off his cap and raincoat and +placed them on a chair, brushing himself off as he did so with +finicky little movements of his hands. + +"Reggie Beresford brought me over in his car," he said. "He's +waiting down the drive." + +Dale decided not to waste words in the usual commonplaces of social +greeting. + +"Mr. Fleming, I'm in dreadful trouble!" she said, facing him +squarely, with a courageous appeal in her eyes. + +He made a polite movement. "Oh, I say! That's too bad." + +She plunged on. "You know the Union Bank closed today." + +He laughed lightly. + +"Yes, I know it! I didn't have anything in it--or any other bank +for that matter," he admitted ruefully, "but I hate to see the old +thing go to smash." + +Dale wondered which angle was best from which to present her appeal. + +"Well, even if you haven't lost anything in this bank failure, a lot +of your friends have--surely?" she went on. + +"I'll say so!" said Fleming, debonairly. "Beresford is sitting down +the road in his Packard now writhing with pain!" + +Dale hesitated; Fleming's lightness seemed so incorrigible that, for +a moment, she was on the verge of giving her project up entirely. +Then, "Waster or not--he's the only man who can help us!" she told +herself and continued. + +"Lots of awfully poor people are going to suffer, too," she said +wistfully. + +Fleming chuckled, dismissing the poor with a wave of his hand. + +"Oh, well, the poor are always in trouble," he said with airy +heartlessness. "They specialize in suffering." + +He extracted a monogrammed cigarette from a thin gold case. + +"But look here," he went on, moving closer to Dale, "you didn't send +for me to discuss this hypothetical poor depositor, did you? Mind +if I smoke?" + +"No." He lit his cigarette and puffed at it with enjoyment while +Dale paused, summoning up her courage. Finally the words came in a +rush. + +"Mr. Fleming, I'm going to say something rather brutal. Please +don't mind. I'm merely--desperate! You see, I happen to be +engaged to the cashier, Jack Bailey--" + +Fleming whistled. "I see! And he's beat it!" + +Dale blazed with indignation. + +"He has not! I'm going to tell you something. He's here, now, in +this house--" she continued fierily, all her defenses thrown aside. +"My aunt thinks he's a new gardener. He is here, Mr. Fleming, +because he knows he didn't take the money, and the only person who +could have done it was--your uncle!" + +Dick Fleming dropped his cigarette in a convenient ash tray and +crushed it out there, absently, not seeming to notice whether it +scorched his fingers or not. He rose and took a turn about the +room. Then he came back to Dale. + +"That's a pretty strong indictment to bring against a dead man," he +said slowly, seriously. + +"It's true!" Dale insisted stubbornly, giving him glance for glance. + +Fleming nodded. "All right." + +He smiled--a smile that Dale didn't like. + +"Suppose it's true--where do I come in?" he said. "You don't +think I know where the money is?" + +"No," admitted Dale, "but I think you might help to find it." + +She went swiftly over to the hall door and listened tensely for an +instant. Then she came back to Fleming. + +"If anybody comes in--you've just come to get something of yours," +she said in a low voice. He nodded understandingly. She dropped +her voice still lower. + +"Do you know anything about a Hidden Room in this house?" she asked. + +Dick Fleming stared at her for a moment. Then he burst into +laughter. + +"A Hidden Room--that's rich!" he said, still laughing. "Never heard +of it! Now, let me get this straight. The idea is--a Hidden Room-- +and the money is in it--is that it?" + +Dale nodded a "Yes." + +"The architect who built this house told Jack Bailey that he had +built a Hidden Room in it," she persisted. + +For a moment Dick Fleming stared at her as if he could not believe +his ears. Then, slowly, his expression changed. Beneath the +well-fed, debonair mask of the clubman about town, other lines +appeared--lines of avarice and calculation--wolf-marks, betokening +the craft and petty ruthlessness of the small soul within the +gentlemanly shell. His eyes took on a shifty, uncertain stare--they +no longer looked at Dale--their gaze seemed turned inward, beholding +a visioned treasure, a glittering pile of gold. And yet, the change +in his look was not so pronounced as to give Dale pause--she felt a +vague uneasiness steal over her, true--but it would have taken a +shrewd and long-experienced woman of the world to read the secret +behind Fleming's eyes at first glance--and Dale, for all her courage +and common sense, was a young and headstrong girl. + +She watched him, puzzled, wondering why he made no comment on her +last statement. + +"Do you know where there are any blue-prints of the house?" she +asked at last. + +An odd light glittered in Fleming's eyes for a moment. Then it +vanished--he held himself in check--the casual idler again. + +"Blue-prints?" He seemed to think it over. "Why--there may be some. +Have you looked in the old secretary in the library? My uncle used +to keep all sorts of papers there," he said with apparent helpfulness. + +"Why, don't you remember--you locked it when we took the house." + +"So I did." Fleming took out his key ring, selected a key. "Suppose +you go and look," he said. "Don't you think I'd better stay here?" + +"Oh, yes--" said Dale, blinded to everything else by the rising hope +in her heart. "Oh, I can hardly thank you enough!" and before he +could even reply, she had taken the key and was hurrying toward the +hall door. + +He watched her leave the room, a bleak smile on his face. As soon +as she had closed the door behind her, his languor dropped from him. +He became a hound--a ferret--questing for its prey. He ran lightly +over to the bookcase by the hall door--a moment's inspection--he +shook his head. Perhaps the other bookcase near the French windows +--no--it wasn't there. Ah, the bookcase over the fireplace! He +remembered now! He made for it, hastily swept the books from the +top shelf, reached groping fingers into the space behind the second +row of books. There! A dusty roll of three blue-prints! He +unrolled them hurriedly and tried to make out the white tracings by +the light of the fire--no--better take them over to the candle on +the table. + +He peered at them hungrily in the little spot of light thrown by +the candle. The first one--no--nor the second--but the third +--the bottom one--good heavens! He took in the significance of +the blurred white lines with greedy eyes, his lips opening in a +silent exclamation of triumph. Then he pondered for an instant, +the blue-print itself--was an awkward size--bulky--good, he had +it! He carefully tore a small portion from the third blue-print +and was about to stuff it in the inside pocket of his dinner jacket +when Dale, returning, caught him before he had time to conceal his +find. She took in the situation at once. + +"Oh, you found it!" she said in tones of rejoicing, giving him back +the key to the secretary. Then, as he still made no move to +transfer the scrap of blue paper to her, "Please let me have it, Mr. +Fleming. I know that's it." + +Dick Fleming's lips set in a thin line. "Just a moment," he said, +putting the table between them with a swift movement. Once more +he stole a glance at the scrap of paper in his hand by the +flickering light of the candle. Then he faced Dale boldly. + +"Do you suppose, if that money is actually here, that I can simply +turn this over to you and let you give it to Bailey?" he said. +"Every man has his price. How do I know that Bailey's isn't a +million dollars?" + +Dale felt as if he had dashed cold water in her face. "What do you +mean to do with it then?" she said. + +Fleming turned the blue-print over in his hand. + +"I don't know," he said. "What is it you want me to do?" + +But by now Dale's vague distrust in him had grown very definite. + +"Aren't you going to give it to me?" + +He put her off. "I'll have to think about that." He looked at the +blue-print again. "So the missing cashier is in this house posing +as a gardener?" he said with a sneer in his tones. + +Dale's temper was rising. + +"If you won't give it to me--there's a detective in this house," +she said, with a stamp of her foot. She made a movement as if to +call Anderson--then, remembering Jack, turned back to Fleming. + +"Give it to the detective and let him search," she pleaded. + +"A detective?" said Fleming startled. "What's a detective doing +here?" + +"People have been trying to break in." + +"What people?" + +"I don't know." + +Fleming stared out beyond Dale, into the night. + +"Then it is here," he muttered to himself. + +Behind his back--was it a gust of air that moved them?--the double +doors of the alcove swung open just a crack. Was a listener crouched +behind those doors--or was it only a trick of carpentry--a gesture +of chance? + +The mask of the clubman dropped from Fleming completely. His lips +drew back from his teeth in the snarl of a predatory animal that +clings to its prey at the cost of life or death. + +Before Dale could stop him, he picked up the discarded blue-prints and +threw them on the fire, retaining only the precious scrap in his hand. +The roll blackened and burst into flame. He watched it, smiling. + +"I'm not going to give this to any detective," he said quietly, +tapping the piece of paper in his hand. + +Dale's heart pounded sickeningly but she kept her courage up. + +"What do you mean?" she said fiercely. "What are you going to do?" + +He faced her across the fireplace, his airy manner coming back to +him just enough to add an additional touch of the sinister to the +cold self-revelation of his words. + +"Let us suppose a few things, Miss Ogden," he said. "Suppose my +price is a million dollars. Suppose I need money very badly and my +uncle has left me a house containing that amount in cash. Suppose +I choose to consider that that money is mine--then it wouldn't be +hard to suppose, would it, that I'd make a pretty sincere attempt +to get away with it?" + +Dale summoned all her fortitude. + +"If you go out of this room with that paper I'll scream for help!" +she said defiantly. + +Fleming made a little mock-bow of courtesy. He smiled. + +"To carry on our little game of supposing," he said easily, "suppose +there is a detective in this house--and that, if I were cornered, +I should tell him where to lay his hands on Jack Bailey. Do you +suppose you would scream?" + +Dale's hands dropped, powerless, at her sides. If only she hadn't +told him--too late!--she was helpless. She could not call the +detective without ruining Jack--and yet, if Fleming escaped with +the money--how could Jack ever prove his innocence? + +Fleming watched her for an instant, smiling. Then, seeing she made +no move, he darted hastily toward the double doors of the alcove, +flung them open, seemed about to dash up the alcove stairs. The +sight of him escaping with the only existing clue to the hidden +room galvanized Dale into action. She followed him, hurriedly +snatching up Miss Cornelia's revolver from the table as she did so, +in a last gesture of desperation. + +"No! No! Give it to me! Give it to me!" and she sprang after him, +clutching the revolver. He waited for her on the bottom step of the +stairs, the slight smile still on his face. + +Panting breaths in the darkness of the alcove--a short, furious +scuffle--he had wrested the revolver away from her, but in doing +so had unguarded the precious blue-print--she snatched at it +desperately, tearing most of it away, leaving only a corner in his +hand. He swore--tried to get it back--she jerked away. + +Then suddenly a bright shaft of light split the darkness of the +alcove stairs like a sword, a spot of brilliance centered on +Fleming's face like the glare of a flashlight focused from above by +an invisible hand. For an instant it revealed him--his features +distorted with fury--about to rush down the stairs again and attack +the trembling girl at their foot. + +A single shot rang out. For a second, the fury on Fleming's face +seemed to change to a strange look of bewilderment and surprise. + +Then the shaft of light was extinguished as suddenly as the snuffing +of a candle, and he crumpled forward to the foot of the stairs-- +struck--lay on his face in the darkness, just inside the double +doors. + +Dale gave a little whimpering cry of horror. + +"Oh, no, no, no," she whispered from a dry throat, automatically +stuffing her portion of the precious scrap of blue-print into the +bosom of her dress. She stood frozen, not daring to move, not +daring even to reach down with her hand and touch the body of +Fleming to see if he was dead or alive. + +A murmur of excited voices sounded from the hall. The door flew +open, feet stumbled through the darkness--"The noise came from +this room!" that was Anderson's voice--"Holy Virgin!" that must +be Lizzie-- + +Even as Dale turned to face the assembled household, the house +lights, extinguished since the storm, came on in full brilliance +--revealing her to them, standing beside Fleming's body with Miss +Cornelia's revolver between them. + +She shuddered, seeing Fleming's arm flung out awkwardly by his +side. No living man could lie in such a posture. + +"I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" she stammered, after a tense +silence that followed the sudden reillumining of the lights. Her +eyes wandered from figure to figure idly, noting unimportant details. +Billy was still in his white coat and his face, impassive as ever, +showed not the slightest surprise. Brooks and Anderson were likewise +completely dressed--but Miss Cornelia had evidently begun to retire +for the night when she had heard the shot--her transformation was +askew and she wore a dressing-gown. As for Lizzie, that worthy +shivered in a gaudy wrapper adorned with incredible orange flowers, +with her hair done up in curlers. Dale saw it all and was never +after to forget one single detail of it. + +The detective was beside her now, examining Fleming's body with +professional thoroughness. At last he rose. + +"He's dead," he said quietly. A shiver ran through the watching +group. Dale felt a stifling hand constrict about her heart. + +There was a pause. Anderson picked up the revolver beside Fleming's +body and examined it swiftly, careful not to confuse his own +fingerprints with any that might already be on the polished steel. +Then he looked at Dale. "Who is he?" he said bluntly. + +Dale fought hysteria for some seconds before she could speak. + +"Richard Fleming--somebody shot him!" she managed to whisper at +last. + +Anderson took a step toward her. + +"What do you mean by somebody?" he said. + +The world to Dale turned into a crowd of threatening, accusing eyes +--a multitude of shadowy voices, shouting, Guilty! Guilty! Prove +that you're innocent--you can't! + +"I don't know," she said wildly. "Somebody on the staircase." + +"Did you see anybody?" Anderson's voice was as passionless and cold +as a bar of steel. + +"No--but there was a light from somewhere--like a pocket-flash--" +She could not go on. She saw Fleming's face before her--furious at +first--then changing to that strange look of bewildered surprise-- +she put her hands over her eyes to shut the vision out. + +Lizzie made a welcome interruption. + +"I told you I saw a man go up that staircase!" she wailed, jabbing +her forefinger in the direction of the alcove stairs. + +Miss Cornelia, now recovered from the first shock of the discovery, +supported her gallantly. + +"That's the only explanation, Mr. Anderson," she said decidedly. + +The detective looked at the stairs--at the terrace door. His eyes +made a circuit of the room and came back to Fleming's body. "I've +been all over the house," he said. "There's nobody there." + +A pause followed. Dale found herself helplessly looking toward her +lover for comfort--comfort he could not give without revealing his +own secret. + +Eerily, through the tense silence, a sudden tinkling sounded--the +sharp, persistent ringing of a telephone bell. + +Miss Cornelia rose to answer it automatically. "The house phone!" +she said. Then she stopped. "But we're all here." + +They looked attach other aghast. It was true. And yet--somehow +--somewhere--one of the other phones on the circuit was calling +the living-room. + +Miss Cornelia summoned every ounce of inherited Van Gorder pride she +possessed and went to the phone. She took off the receiver. The +ringing stopped. + +"Hello--hello--" she said, while the others stood rigid, listening. +Then she gasped. An expression of wondering horror came over her +face. + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +THE PHONE CALL FROM NOWHERE + +"Somebody groaning!" gasped Miss Cornelia. "It's horrible!" + +The detective stepped up and took the receiver from her. He +listened anxiously for a moment. + +"I don't hear anything," he said. + +"I heard it! I couldn't imagine such a dreadful sound! I tell +you--somebody in this house is in terrible distress." + +"Where does this phone connect?" queried Anderson practically. + +Miss Cornelia made a hopeless little gesture. "Practically every +room in this house!" + +The detective put the receiver to his ear again. + +"Just what did you hear?" he said stolidly. + +Miss Cornelia's voice shook. + +"Dreadful groans--and what seemed to be an inarticulate effort to +speak!" + +Lizzie drew her gaudy wrapper closer about her shuddering form. + +"I'd go somewhere," she wailed in the voice of a lost soul, "if I +only had somewhere to go!" + +Miss Cornelia quelled her with a glare and turned back to the +detective. + +"Won't you send these men to investigate--or go yourself?" she +said, indicating Brooks and Billy. The detective thought swiftly. + +"My place is here," he said. "You two men," Brooks and Billy moved +forward to take his orders, "take another look through the house-- +don't leave the building--I'll want you pretty soon." + +Brooks--or Jack Bailey, as we may as well call him through the +remainder of this narrative--started to obey. Then his eye fell +on Miss Cornelia's revolver which Anderson had taken from beside +Fleming's body and still held clasped in his hand. + +"If you'll give me that revolver--" he began in an offhand tone, +hoping Anderson would not see through his little ruse. Once wiped +clean of fingerprints, the revolver would not be such telling +evidence against Dale Ogden. + +But Anderson was not to be caught napping. "That revolver will +stay where it is," he said with a grim smile. + +Jack Bailey knew better than to try and argue the point, he followed +Billy reluctantly out of the door, giving Dale a surreptitious glance +of encouragement and faith as he did so. The Japanese and he mounted +to the second floor as stealthily as possible, prying into dark +corners and searching unused rooms for any clue that might betray +the source of the startling phone call from nowhere. But Bailey's +heart was not in the search. His mind kept going back to the figure +of Dale--nervous, shaken, undergoing the terrors of the third degree +at Anderson's hands. She couldn't have shot Fleming of course, and +yet, unless he and Billy found something to substantiate her story +of how the killing had happened, it was her own, unsupported word +against a damning mass of circumstantial evidence. He plunged with +renewed vigor into his quest. + +Back in the living-room, as he had feared, Anderson was subjecting +Dale to a merciless interrogation. + +"Now I want the real story!" he began with calculated brutality. +"You lied before!" + +"That's no tone to use! You'll only terrify her," cried Miss +Cornelia indignantly. The detective paid no attention, his face +had hardened, he seemed every inch the remorseless sleuthhound of +the law. He turned on Miss Cornelia for a moment. + +"Where were you when this happened?" he said. + +"Upstairs in my room." Miss Cornelia's tones were icy. + +"And you?" badgeringly, to Lizzie. + +"In my room," said the latter pertly, "brushing Miss Cornelia's +hair." + +Anderson broke open the revolver and gave a swift glance at the +bullet chambers. + +"One shot has been fired from this revolver!" + +Miss Cornelia sprang to her niece's defense. + +"I fired it myself this afternoon," she said. + +The detective regarded her with grudging admiration. + +"You're a quick thinker," he said with obvious unbelief in his +voice. He put the revolver down on the table. + +Miss Cornelia followed up her advantage. + +"I demand that you get the coroner here," she said. + +"Doctor Wells is the coroner," offered Lizzie eagerly. Anderson +brushed their suggestions aside. + +"I'm going to ask you some questions!" he said menacingly to Dale. + +But Miss Cornelia stuck to her guns. Dale was not going to be +bullied into any sort of confession, true or false, if she could +help it--and from the way that the girl's eyes returned with +fascinated horror to the ghastly heap on the floor that had been +Fleming, she knew that Dale was on the edge of violent hysteria. + +"Do you mind covering that body first?" she asked crisply. The +detective eyed her for a moment in a rather ugly fashion--then +grunted ungraciously and, taking Fleming's raincoat from the +chair, threw it over the body. Dale's eyes telegraphed her aunt +a silent message of gratitude. + +"Now--shall I telephone for the coroner?" persisted Miss Cornelia. +The detective obviously resented her interference with his methods +but he could not well refuse such a customary request. + +"I'll do it," he said with a snort, going over to the city telephone. +"What's his number?" + +"He's not at his office; he's at the Johnsons'," murmured Dale. + +Miss Cornelia took the telephone from Anderson's hands. + +"I'll get the Johnsons', Mr. Anderson," she said firmly. The +detective seemed about to rebuke her. Then his manner recovered +some of its former suavity. He relinquished the telephone and +turned back toward his prey. + +"Now, what was Fleming doing here?" he asked Dale in a gentler +voice. + +Should she tell him the truth? No--Jack Bailey's safety was too +inextricably bound up with the whole sinister business. She must +lie, and lie again, while there was any chance of a lie's being +believed. + +"I don't know," she said weakly, trying to avoid the detective's +eyes. + +Anderson took thought. + +"Well, I'll ask that question another way," he said. "How did he +get into the house?" + +Dale brightened--no need for a lie here. + +"He had a key." + +"Key to what door?" + +"That door over there." Dale indicated the terrace door of the +alcove. + +The detective was about to ask another question--then he paused. +Miss Cornelia was talking on the phone. + +"Hello--is that Mr. Johnson's residence? Is Doctor Wells there? +No?" Her expression was puzzled. "Oh--all right--thank you-- +good night--" + +Meanwhile Anderson had been listening--but thinking as well. Dale +saw his sharp glance travel over to the fireplace--rest for a +moment, with an air of discovery, on the fragments of the roll of +blue-prints that remained unburned among ashes--return. She shut +her eyes for a moment, trying tensely to summon every atom of +shrewdness she possessed to aid her. + +He was hammering at her with questions again. "When did you take +that revolver out of the table drawer?" + +"When I heard him outside on the terrace," said Dale promptly and +truthfully. "I was frightened." + +Lizzie tiptoed over to Miss Cornelia. + +"You wanted a detective!" she said in an ironic whisper. "I hope +you're happy now you've got one!" + +Miss Cornelia gave her a look that sent her scuttling back to her +former post by the door. But nevertheless, internally, she felt +thoroughly in accord with Lizzie. + +Again Anderson's questions pounded at the rigid Dale, striving to +pierce her armor of mingled truth and falsehood. + +"When Fleming came in, what did he say to you?" + +"Just--something about the weather," said Dale weakly. The whole +scene was, still too horribly vivid before her eyes for her to +furnish a more convincing alibi. + +"You didn't have any quarrel with him?" + +Dale hesitated. + +"No." + +"He just came in that door--said something about the weather--and +was shot from that staircase. Is that it?" said the detective in +tones of utter incredulity. + +Dale hesitated again. Thus baldly put, her story seemed too flimsy +for words; she could not even blame Anderson for disbelieving it. +And yet--what other story could she tell that would not bring ruin +on Jack? + +Her face whitened. She put her hand on the back of a chair for +support. + +"Yes--that's it," she said at last, and swayed where she stood. + +Again Miss Cornelia tried to come to the rescue. "Are all these +questions necessary?" she queried sharply. "You can't for a +moment believe that Miss Ogden shot that man!" But by now, though +she did not show it, she too began to realize the strength of the +appalling net of circumstances that drew with each minute tighter +around the unhappy girl. Dale gratefully seized the momentary +respite and sank into a chair. The detective looked at her. + +"I think she knows more than she's telling. She's concealing +something!" he said with deadly intentness. "The nephew of the +president of the Union Bank--shot in his own house the day the +bank has failed--that's queer enough--" Now he turned back to +Miss Cornelia. "But when the only person present at his murder +is the girl who's engaged to the guilty cashier," he continued, +watching Miss Cornelia's face as the full force of his words sank +into her mind, "I want to know more about it!" + +He stopped. His right hand moved idly over the edge of the table +--halted beside an ash tray--closed upon something. + +Miss Cornelia rose. + +"Is that true, Dale?" she said sorrowfully. + +Dale nodded. "Yes." She could not trust herself to explain at +greater length. + +Then Miss Cornelia made one of the most magnificent gestures of +her life. + +"Well, even if it is--what has that got to do with it?" she said, +turning upon Anderson fiercely, all her protective instinct for +those whom she loved aroused. + +Anderson seemed somewhat impressed by the fierceness of her query. +When he went on it was with less harshness in his manner. + +"I'm not accusing this girl," he said more gently. "But behind +every crime there is a motive. When we've found the motive for +this crime, we'll have found the criminal." + +Unobserved, Dale's hand instinctively went to her bosom. There it +lay--the motive--the precious fragment of blue-print which she had +torn from Fleming's grasp but an instant before he was shot down. +Once Anderson found it in her possession the case was closed, the +evidence against her overwhelming. She could not destroy it--it +was the only clue to the Hidden Room and the truth that might clear +Jack Bailey. But, somehow, she must hide it--get it out of her +hands--before Anderson's third-degree methods broke her down or +he insisted on a search of her person. Her eyes roved wildly about +the room, looking for a hiding place. + +The rain of Anderson's questions began anew. + +"What papers did Fleming burn in that grate?" he asked abruptly, +turning back to Dale. + +"Papers!" she faltered. + +"Papers! The ashes are still there." + +Miss Cornelia made an unavailing interruption. + +"Miss Ogden has said he didn't come into this room." + +The detective smiled. + +"I hold in my hand proof that he was in this room for some time," +he said coldly, displaying the half-burned cigarette he had taken +from the ash tray a moment before. + +"His cigarette--with his monogram on it." He put the fragment of +tobacco and paper carefully away in an envelope and marched over +to the fireplace. There he rummaged among the ashes for a moment, +like a dog uncovering a bone. He returned to the center of the +room with a fragment of blackened blue paper fluttering between his +fingers. + +"A fragment of what is technically known as a blue-print," he +announced. "What were you and Richard Fleming doing with a +blue-print?" His eyes bored into Dale's. + +Dale hesitated--shut her lips. + +"Now think it over!" he warned. "The truth will come out, sooner +or later! Better be frank NOW!" + +If he only knew how I wanted to be--he wouldn't be so cruel, +thought Dale wearily. But I can't--I can't! Then her heart gave +a throb of relief. Jack had come back into the room--Jack and +Billy--Jack would protect her! But even as she thought of this +her heart sank again. Protect her, indeed! Poor Jack! He would +find it hard enough to protect himself if once this terrible +man with the cold smile and steely eyes started questioning him. +She looked up anxiously. + +Bailey made his report breathlessly. + +"Nothing in the house, sir." + +Billy's impassive lips confirmed him. + +"We go all over house--nobody!" + +Nobody--nobody in the house! And yet--the mysterious ringing of +the phone--the groans Miss Cornelia had heard! Were old wives' +tales and witches' fables true after all? Did a power--merciless +--evil--exists outside the barriers of the flesh--blasting that +trembling flesh with a cold breath from beyond the portals of the +grave? There seemed to be no other explanation. + +"You men stay here!" said the detective. "I want to ask you some +questions." He doggedly returned to his third-degreeing of Dale. + +"Now what about this blue-print?" he queried sharply. + +Dale stiffened in her chair. Her lies had failed. Now she would +tell a portion of the truth, as much of it as she could without +menacing Jack. + +"I'll tell you just what happened," she began. "I sent for Richard +Fleming--and when he came, I asked him if he knew where there were +any blue-prints of the house." + +The detective pounced eagerly upon her admission. + +"Why did you want blue-prints?" he thundered. + +"Because," Dale took a long breath, "I believe old Mr. Fleming took +the money himself from the Union Bank and hid it here." + +"Where did you get that idea?" + +Dale's jaw set. "I won't tell you." + +"What had the blue-prints to do with it?" + +She could think of no plausible explanation but the true one. + +"Because I'd heard there was a Hidden Room in this house." + +The detective leaned forward intently. "Did you locate that room?" + +Dale hesitated. "No." + +"Then why did you burn the blue-prints?" + +Dale's nerve was crumbling--breaking--under the repeated, +monotonous impact of his questions. + +"He burned them!" she cried wildly. "I don't know why!" + +The detective paused an instant, then returned to a previous query. + +"Then you didn't locate this Hidden Room?" + +Dale's lips formed a pale "No." + +"Did he?" went on Anderson inexorably. + +Dale stared at him, dully--the breaking point had come. Another +question--another--and she would no longer be able to control +herself. She would sob out the truth hysterically--that Brooks, +the gardener, was Jack Bailey, the missing cashier--that the +scrap of blue-print hidden in the bosom of her dress might unravel +the secret of the Hidden Room--that-- + +But just as she felt herself, sucked of strength, beginning to +slide toward a black, tingling pit of merciful oblivion, Miss +Cornelia provided a diversion. + +"What's that?" she said in a startled voice. + +The detective turned away from his quarry for an instant. + +"What's what?" + +"I heard something," averred Miss Cornelia, staring toward the +French windows. + +All eyes followed the direction of her stare. There was an instant +of silence. + +Then, suddenly, traveling swiftly from right to left across the +shades of the French windows, there appeared a glowing circle of +brilliant white light. Inside the circle was a black, distorted +shadow--a shadow like the shadow of a gigantic black Bat! It +was there--then a second later, it was gone! + +"Oh, my God!" wailed Lizzie from her corner. "It's the Bat--that's +his sign!" + +Jack Bailey made a dash for the terrace door. But Miss Cornelia +halted him peremptorily. + +"Wait, Brooks!" She turned to the detective. "Mr. Anderson, you +are familiar with the sign of the Bat. Did that look like it?" + +The detective seemed both puzzled and disturbed. "Well, it looked +like the shadow of a bat. I'll say that for it," he said finally. + +On the heels of his words the front door bell began to ring. All +turned in the direction of the hall. + +"I'll answer that!" said Jack Bailey eagerly. + +Miss Cornelia gave him the key to the front door. + +"Don't admit anyone till you know who it is," she said. Bailey +nodded and disappeared into the hall. The others waited tensely. +Miss Cornelia's hand crept toward the revolver lying on the table +where Anderson had put it down. + +There was the click of an opening door, the noise of a little +scuffle--then men's voices raised in an angry dispute. "What do +I know about a flashlight?" cried an irritated voice. "I haven't +got a pocket-flash--take your hands off me!" Bailey's voice +answered the other voice, grim, threatening. The scuffle resumed. + +Then Doctor Wells burst suddenly into the room, closely followed +by Bailey. The Doctor's tie was askew--he looked ruffled and +enraged. Bailey followed him vigilantly, seeming not quite sure +whether to allow him to enter or not. + +"My dear Miss Van Gorder," began the Doctor in tones of high +dudgeon, "won't you instruct your servants that even if I do make +a late call, I am not to be received with violence?" + +"I asked you if you had a pocket-flash about you!" answered Bailey +indignantly. "If you call a question like that violence--" He +seemed about to restrain the Doctor by physical force. + +Miss Cornelia quelled the teapot-tempest. + +"It's all right, Brooks," she said, taking the front door key from +his hand and putting it back on the table. She turned to Doctor +Wells. + +"You see, Doctor Wells," she explained, "just a moment before you +rang the doorbell a circle of white light was thrown on those +window shades." + +The Doctor laughed with a certain relief. + +"Why, that was probably the searchlight from my car!" he said. "I +noticed as I drove up that it fell directly on that window." + +His explanation seemed to satisfy all present but Lizzie. She +regarded him with a deep suspicion. "'He may be a lawyer, a +merchant, a Doctor...'" she chanted ominously to herself. + +Miss Cornelia, too, was not entirely at ease. + +"In the center of this ring of light," she proceeded, her eyes on +the Doctor's calm countenance, "was an almost perfect silhouette +of a bat." + +"A bat!" The Doctor seemed at sea. "Ah, I see--the symbol of +the criminal of that name." He laughed again. + +"I think I can explain what you saw. Quite often my headlights +collect insects at night and a large moth, spread on the glass, +would give precisely the effect you speak of. Just to satisfy you, +I'll go out and take a look." + +He turned to do so. Then he caught sight of the raincoat-covered +huddle on the floor. + +"Why--" he said in a voice that mingled astonishment with horror. +He paused. His glance slowly traversed the circle of silent faces. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +BILLY PRACTICES JIU-JITSU + +"We have had a very sad occurrence here, Doctor," said Miss Cornelia +gently. + +The Doctor braced himself. + +"Who?" + +"Richard Fleming." + +"Richard Fleming?" gasped the Doctor in tones of incredulous +horror. + +"Shot and killed from that staircase," said Miss Cornelia tonelessly. + +The detective demurred. + +"Shot and killed, anyhow," he said in accents of significant +omission. + +The Doctor knelt beside the huddle on the floor. He removed the +fold of the raincoat that covered the face of the corpse and stared +at the dead, blank mask. Till a moment ago, even at the height of +his irritation with Bailey, he had been blithe and offhand--a man +who seemed comparatively young for his years. Now Age seemed to +fall upon him, suddenly, like a gray, clinging dust--he looked +stricken and feeble under the impact of this unexpected shock. + +"Shot and killed from that stairway," he repeated dully. He rose +from his knees and glanced at the fatal stairs. + +"What was Richard Fleming doing in this house at this hour?" he +said. + +He spoke to Miss Cornelia but Anderson answered the question. + +"That's what I'm trying to find out," he said with a saturnine smile. + +The Doctor gave him a look of astonished inquiry. Miss Cornelia +remembered her manners. + +"Doctor, this is Mr. Anderson." + +"Headquarters," said Anderson tersely, shaking hands. + +It was Lizzie's turn to play her part in the tangled game of mutual +suspicion that by now made each member of the party at Cedarcrest +watch every other member with nervous distrust. She crossed to her +mistress on tiptoe. + +"Don't you let him fool you with any of that moth business!" she +said in a thrilling whisper, jerking her thumb in the direction of +the Doctor. "He's the Bat." + +Ordinarily Miss Cornelia would have dismissed her words with a smile. +But by now her brain felt as if it had begun to revolve like a +pinwheel in her efforts to fathom the uncanny mystery of the various +events of the night. + +She addressed Doctor Wells. + +"I didn't tell you, Doctor--I sent for a detective this afternoon." +Then, with mounting suspicion, "You happened in very opportunely!" + +"After I left the Johnsons' I felt very uneasy," he explained. "I +determined to make one more effort to get you away from this house. +As this shows--my fears were justified!" + +He shook his head sadly. Miss Cornelia sat down. His last words +had given her food for thought. She wanted to mull them over for +a moment. + +The Doctor removed muffler and topcoat--stuffed the former in his +topcoat pocket and threw the latter on the settee. He took out +his handkerchief and began to mop his face, as if to wipe away some +strain of mental excitement under which he was laboring. His breath +came quickly--the muscles of his jaw stood out. + +"Died instantly, I suppose?" he said, looking over at the body. +"Didn't have time to say anything?" + +"Ask the young lady," said Anderson, with a jerk of his head. "She +was here when it happened." + +The Doctor gave Dale a feverish glance of inquiry. + +"He just fell over," said the latter pitifully. Her answer seemed +to relieve the Doctor of some unseen weight on his mind. He drew +a long breath and turned back toward Fleming's body with comparative +calm. + +"Poor Dick has proved my case for me better than I expected," he +said, regarding the still, unbreathing heap beneath the raincoat. +He swerved toward the detective. + +"Mr. Anderson," he said with dignified pleading, "I ask you to use +your influence, to see that these two ladies find some safer spot +than this for the night." + +Lizzie bounced up from her chair, instanter. + +"Two?" she wailed. "If you know any safe spot, lead me to it!" + +The Doctor overlooked her sudden eruption into the scene. He +wandered back again toward the huddle under the raincoat, as if +still unable to believe that it was--or rather had been--Richard +Fleming. + +Miss Cornelia spoke suddenly in a low voice, without moving a muscle +of her body. + +"I have a strange feeling that I'm being watched by unfriendly eyes," +she said. + +Lizzie clutched at her across the table. + +"I wish the lights would go out again!" she pattered. "No, I don't +neither!" as Miss Cornelia gave the clutching hand a nervous little +slap. + +During the little interlude of comedy, Billy, the Japanese, +unwatched by the others, had stolen to the French windows, pulled +aside a blind, looked out. When he turned back to the room his face +had lost a portion of its Oriental calm--there was suspicion in his +eyes. Softly, under cover of pretending to arrange the tray of food +that lay untouched on the table, he possessed himself of the key to +the front door, unperceived by the rest, and slipped out of the room +like a ghost. + +Meanwhile the detective confronted Doctor Wells. + +"You say, Doctor, that you came back to take these women away from +the house. Why?" + +The Doctor gave him a dignified stare. + +"Miss Van Gorder has already explained." + +Miss Cornelia elucidated. "Mr. Anderson has already formed a +theory of the crime," she said with a trace of sarcasm in her tones. + +The detective turned on her quickly. "I haven't said that." He +started. + +It had come again--tinkling--persistent.--the phone call from +nowhere--the ringing of the bell of the house telephone! + +"The house telephone--again!" breathed Dale. Miss Cornelia made +a movement to answer the tinkling, inexplicable bell. But Anderson +was before her. + +"I'll answer that!" he barked. He sprang to the phone. + +"Hello--hello--" + +All eyes were bent on him nervously--the Doctor's face, in +particular, seemed a very study in fear and amazement. He clutched +the back of a chair to support himself, his hand was the trembling +hand of a sick, old man. + +"Hello--hello--" Anderson swore impatiently. He hung up the phone. + +"There's nobody there!" + +Again, a chill breath from another world than ours seemed to brush +across the faces of the little group in the living-room. Dale, +sensitive, impressionable, felt a cold, uncanny prickling at the +roots of her hair. + +A light came into Anderson's eyes. "Where's that Jap?" he almost +shouted. + +"He just went out," said Miss Cornelia. The cold fear, the fear +of the unearthly, subsided from around Dale's heart, leaving her +shaken but more at peace. + +The detective turned swiftly to the Doctor, as if to put his case +before the eyes of an unprejudiced witness. + +"That Jap rang the phone," he said decisively. "Miss Van Gorder +believes that this murder is the culmination of the series of +mysterious happenings that caused her to send for me. I do not." + +"Then what is the significance of the anonymous letters?" broke in +Miss Cornelia heatedly. "Of the man Lizzie saw going up the stairs, +of the attempt to break into this house--of the ringing of that +telephone bell?" + +Anderson replied with one deliberate word. + +"Terrorization," he said. + +The Doctor moistened his dry lips in an effort to speak. + +"By whom?" he asked. + +Anderson's voice was an icicle. + +"I imagine by Miss Van Gorder's servants. By that woman there--" +he pointed at Lizzie, who rose indignantly to deny the charge. But +he gave her no time for denial. He rushed on, "--who probably +writes the letters," he continued. "By the gardener--" his pointing +finger found Bailey "--who may have been the man Lizzie saw slipping +up the stairs. By the Jap, who goes out and rings the telephone," he +concluded triumphantly. + +Miss Cornelia seemed unimpressed by his fervor. + +"With what object?" she queried smoothly. + +"That's what I'm going to find out!" There was determination in +Anderson's reply. + +Miss Cornelia sniffed. "Absurd! The butler was in this room when +the telephone rang for the first time." + +The thrust pierced Anderson's armor. For once he seemed at a loss. +Here was something he had omitted from his calculations. But he +did not give up. He was about to retort when--crash! thud!--the +noise of a violent struggle in the hall outside drew all eyes to the +hall door. + +An instant later the door slammed open and a disheveled young man +in evening clothes was catapulted into the living-room as if slung +there by a giant's arm. He tripped and fell to the floor in the +center of the room. Billy stood in the doorway behind him, +inscrutable, arms folded, on his face an expression of mild +satisfaction as if he were demurely pleased with a neat piece of +housework, neatly carried out. + +The young man picked himself up, brushed off his clothes, sought +for his hat, which had rolled under the table. Then he turned on +Billy furiously. + +"Damn you--what do you mean by this?" + +"Jiu-jitsu," said Billy, his yellow face quite untroubled. "Pretty +good stuff. Found on terrace with searchlight," he added. + +"With searchlight?" barked Anderson. + +The young man turned to face this new enemy. + +"Well, why shouldn't I be on the terrace with a searchlight?" he +demanded. + +The detective moved toward him menacingly. + +"Who are you?" + +"Who are you?" said the young man with cool impertinence, giving +him stare for stare. + +Anderson did not deign to reply, in so many words. Instead he +displayed the police badge which glittered on the inside of the +right lapel of his coat. The young man examined it coolly. + +"H'm," he said. "Very pretty--nice neat design--very chaste!" +He took out a cigarette case and opened it, seemingly entirely +unimpressed by both the badge and Anderson. The detective chafed. + +"If you've finished admiring my badge," he said with heavy sarcasm, +"I'd like to know what you were doing on the terrace." + +The young man hesitated--shot an odd, swift glance at Dale who +ever since his abrupt entrance into the room, had been sitting +rigid in her chair with her hands clenched tightly together. + +"I've had some trouble with my car down the road," he said finally. +He glanced at Dale again. "I came to ask if I might telephone." + +"Did it require a flashlight to find the house?" Miss Cornelia +asked suspiciously. + +"Look here," the young man blustered, "why are you asking me all +these questions?" He tapped his cigarette case with an irritated +air. + +Miss Cornelia stepped closer to him. + +"Do you mind letting me see that flashlight?" she said. + +The young man gave it to her with a little, mocking bow. She +turned it over, examined it, passed it to Anderson, who examined +it also, seeming to devote particular attention to the lens. The +young man stood puffing his cigarette a little nervously while the +examination was in progress. He did not look at Dale again. + +Anderson handed back the flashlight to its owner. + +"Now--what's your name?" he said sternly. + +"Beresford--Reginald Beresford," said the young man sulkily. "If +you doubt it I've probably got a card somewhere--" He began to +search through his pockets. + +"What's your business?" went on the detective. + +"What's my business here?" queried the young man, obviously fencing +with his interrogator. + +"No--how do you earn your living?" said Anderson sharply. + +"I don't," said the young man flippantly. "I may have to begin now, +if that is of any interest to you. As a matter of fact, I've +studied law but--" + +The one word was enough to start Lizzie off on another trail of +distrust. "He may be a LAWYER--" she quoted to herself sepulchrally +from the evening newspaper article that had dealt with the +mysterious identity of the Bat. + +"And you came here to telephone about your car?" persisted the +detective. + +Dale rose from her chair with a hopeless little sigh. "Oh, don't +you see--he's trying to protect me," she said wearily. She turned +to the young man. "It's no use, Mr. Beresford." + +Beresford's air of flippancy vanished. + +"I see," he said. He turned to the other, frankly. "Well, the +plain truth is--I didn't know the situation and I thought I'd play +safe for Miss Ogden's sake." + +Miss Cornelia moved over to her niece protectingly. She put a hand +on Dale's shoulder to reassure her. But Dale was quite composed +now--she had gone through so many shocks already that one more or less +seemed to make very little difference to her overwearied nerves. +She turned to Anderson calmly. + +"He doesn't know anything about--this," she said, indicating +Beresford. "He brought Mr. Fleming here in his car--that's all." + +Anderson looked to Beresford for confirmation. + +"Is that true?" + +"Yes," said Beresford. He started to explain. "I got tired of +waiting and so I--" + +The detective broke in curtly. + +"All right." + +He took a step toward the alcove. + +"Now, Doctor." He nodded at the huddle beneath the raincoat. +Beresford followed his glance--and saw the ominous heap for the +first time. + +"What's that?" he said tensely. No one answered him. The Doctor +was already on his knees beside the body, drawing the raincoat +gently aside. Beresford stared at the shape thus revealed with +frightened eyes. The color left his face. + +"That's not--Dick Fleming--is it?" he said thickly. Anderson +slowly nodded his head. Beresford seemed unable to believe his +eyes. + +"If you've looked over the ground," said the Doctor in a low voice +to Anderson, "I'll move the body where we can have a better light." +His right hand fluttered swiftly over Fleming's still, clenched fist +--extracted from it a torn corner of paper.... + +Still Beresford did not seem to be able to take in what had happened. +He took another step toward the body. + +"Do you mean to say that Dick Fleming--" he began. Anderson +silenced him with an uplifted hand. + +"What have you got there, Doctor?" he said in a still voice. + +The Doctor, still on his knees beside the corpse, lifted his head. + +"What do you mean?" + +"You took something, just then, out of Fleming's hand," said the +detective. + +"I took nothing out of his hand," said the Doctor firmly. + +Anderson's manner grew peremptory. + +"I warn you not to obstruct the course of justice!" he said forcibly. +"Give it here!" + +The Doctor rose slowly, dusting off his knees. His eyes tried to +meet Anderson's and failed. He produced a torn corner of blue-print. + +"Why, it's only a scrap of paper, nothing at all," he said evasively. + +Anderson looked at him meaningly. + +"Scraps of paper are sometimes very important," said with a side +glance at Dale. + +Beresford approached the two angrily. + +"Look here!" he burst out, "I've got a right to know about this thing. +I brought Fleming over here--and I want to know what happened to him!" + +"You don't have to be a mind reader to know that!" moaned Lizzie, +overcome. + +As usual, her comment went unanswered. Beresford persisted in his +questions. + +"Who killed him? That's what I want to know!" he continued, nervously +puffing his cigarette. + +"Well, you're not alone in that," said Anderson in his grimly +humorous vein. + +The Doctor motioned nervously to them both. + +"As the coroner--if Mr. Anderson is satisfied--I suggest that the +body be taken where I can make a thorough examination," he said +haltingly. + +Once more Anderson bent over the shell that had been Richard Fleming. +He turned the body half-over--let it sink back on its face. For a +moment he glanced at the corner of the blue-print in his hand, then +at the Doctor. Then he stood aside. + +"All right," he said laconically. + +So Richard Fleming left the room where he had been struck down so +suddenly and strangely--borne out by Beresford, the Doctor, and +Jack Bailey. The little procession moved as swiftly and softly as +circumstances would permit--Anderson followed its passage with +watchful eyes. Billy went mechanically to pick up the stained rug +which the detective had kicked aside and carried it off after the +body. When the burden and its bearers, with Anderson in the rear, +reached the doorway into the hall, Lizzie shrank before the sight, +affrighted, and turned toward the alcove while Miss Cornelia stared +unseeingly out toward the front windows. So, for perhaps a dozen +ticks of time Dale was left unwatched--and she made the most of +her opportunity. + +Her fingers fumbled at the bosom of her dress--she took out the +precious, dangerous fragment of blue-print that Anderson must not +find in her possession--but where to hide it, before her chance +had passed? Her eyes fell on the bread roll that had fallen from +the detective's supper tray to the floor when Lizzie had seen the +gleaming eye on the stairs and had lain there unnoticed ever since. +She bent over swiftly and secreted the tantalizing scrap of blue +paper in the body of the roll, smoothing the crust back above it +with trembling fingers. Then she replaced the roll where it had +fallen originally and straightened up just as Billy and the +detective returned. + +Billy went immediately to the tray, picked it up, and started to go +out again. Then he noticed the roll on the floor, stooped for it, +and replaced it upon the tray. He looked at Miss Cornelia for +instructions. + +"Take that tray out to the dining-room," she said mechanically. +But Anderson's attention had already been drawn to the tiny incident. + +"Wait--I'll look at that tray," he said briskly. Dale, her heart +in her mouth, watched him examine the knives, the plates, even +shake out the napkin to see that nothing was hidden in its folds. +At last he seemed satisfied. + +"All right--take it away," he commanded. Billy nodded and vanished +toward the dining-room with tray and roll. Dale breathed again. + +The sight of the tray had made Miss Cornelia's thoughts return to +practical affairs. + +"Lizzie," she commanded now, "go out in the kitchen and make some +coffee. I'm sure we all need it," she sighed. + +Lizzie bristled at once. + +"Go out in that kitchen alone?" + +"Billy's there," said Miss Cornelia wearily. + +The thought of Billy seemed to bring little solace to Lizzie's heart. + +"That Jap and his jooy-jitsu," she muttered viciously. "One twist +and I'd be folded up like a pretzel." + +But Miss Cornelia's manner was imperative, and Lizzie slowly dragged +herself kitchenward, yawning and promising the saints repentance of +every sin she had or had not committed if she were allowed to get +there without something grabbing at her ankles in the dark corner of +the hall. + +When the door had shut behind her, Anderson turned to Dale, the +corner of blue-print which he had taken from the Doctor in his hand. + +"Now, Miss Ogden," he said tensely, "I have here a scrap of blue-print +which was in Dick Fleming's hand when he was killed. I'll trouble +you for the rest of it, if you please!" + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +"I DIDN'T KILL HIM." + +"The rest of it?" queried Dale with a show of bewilderment, silently +thanking her stars that, for the moment at least, the incriminating +fragment had passed out of her possession. + +Her reply seemed only to infuriate the detective. + +"Don't tell me Fleming started to go out of this house with a blank +scrap of paper in his hand," he threatened. "He didn't start to go +out at all!" + +Dale rose. Was Anderson trying a chance shot in the dark--or had +he stumbled upon some fresh evidence against her? She could not +tell from his manner. + +"Why do you say that?" she feinted. + +"His cap's there on that table," said the detective with crushing +terseness. Dale started. She had not remembered the cap--why +hadn't she burned it, concealed it--as she had concealed the +blue-print? She passed a hand over her forehead wearily. + +Miss Cornelia watched her niece. + +"It you're keeping anything back, Dale--tell him," she said. + +"She's keeping something back all right," he said. "She's told part +of the truth, but not all." He hammered at Dale again. "You and +Fleming located that room by means of a blue-print of the house. He +started--not to go out--but, probably, to go up that staircase. +And he had in his hand the rest of this!" Again he displayed the +blank corner of blue paper. + +Dale knew herself cornered at last. The detective's deductions were +too shrewd; do what she would, she could keep him away from the +truth no longer. + +"He was going to take the money and go away with it!" she said rather +pitifully, feeling a certain relief of despair steal over her, now +that she no longer needed to go on lying--lying--involving herself +in an inextricable web of falsehood. + +"Dale!" gasped Miss Cornelia, alarmed. But Dale went on, reckless +of consequences to herself, though still warily shielding Jack. + +"He changed the minute he heard about it. He was all kindness before +that--but afterward--" She shuddered, closing her eyes. Fleming's +face rose before her again, furious, distorted with passion and greed +--then, suddenly, quenched of life. + +Anderson turned to Miss Cornelia triumphantly. + +"She started to find the money--and save Bailey," he explained, +building up his theory of the crime. "But to do it she had to take +Fleming into her confidence--and he turned yellow. Rather than +let him get away with it, she--" He made an expressive gesture +toward his hip pocket. + +Dale trembled, feeling herself already in the toils. She had not +quite realized, until now, how damningly plausible such an +explanation of Fleming's death could sound. It fitted the evidence +perfectly--it took account of every factor but one--the factor left +unaccounted for was one which even she herself could not explain. + +"Isn't that true?" demanded Anderson. Dale already felt the cold +clasp of handcuffs on her slim wrists. What use of denial when +every tiny circumstance was so leagued against her? And yet she +must deny. + +"I didn't kill him," she repeated perplexedly, weakly. + +"Why didn't you call for help? You--you knew I was here." + +Dale hesitated. "I--I couldn't." The moment the words were out +of her mouth she knew from his expression that they had only +cemented his growing certainty of her guilt. + +"Dale! Be careful what you say!" warned Miss Cornelia agitatedly. +Dale looked dumbly at her aunt. Her answers must seem the height +of reckless folly to Miss Cornelia--oh, if there were only someone +who understood! + +Anderson resumed his grilling. + +"Now I mean to find out two things," he said, advancing upon Dale. +"Why you did not call for help--and what you have done with that +blue-print." + +"Suppose I could find that piece of blue-print for you?" said Dale +desperately. "Would that establish Jack Bailey's innocence?" + +The detective stared at her keenly for a moment. + +"If the money's there--yes." + +Dale opened her lips to reveal the secret, reckless of what might +follow. As long as Jack was cleared--what matter what happened +to herself? But Miss Cornelia nipped the heroic attempt at +self-sacrifice in the bud. + +She put herself between her niece and the detective, shielding Dale +from his eager gaze. + +"But her own guilt!" she said in tones of great dignity. "No, Mr. +Anderson, granting that she knows where that paper is--and she has +not said that she does--I shall want more time and much legal advice +before I allow her to turn it over to you." + +All the unconscious note of command that long-inherited wealth and +the pride of a great name can give was in her voice, and the +detective, for the moment, bowed before it, defeated. Perhaps he +thought of men who had been broken from the Force for injudicious +arrests, perhaps he merely bided his time. At any rate, he gave up +his grilling of Dale for the present and turned to question the +Doctor and Beresford who had just returned, with Jack Bailey, from +their grim task of placing Fleming's body in a temporary resting +place in the library. + +"Well, Doctor?" he grunted. + +The Doctor shook his head + +"Poor fellow--straight through the heart." + +"Were there any powder marks?" queried Miss Cornelia. + +"No--and the clothing was not burned. He was apparently shot from +some little distance--and I should say from above." + +The detective received this information without the change of a +muscle in his face. He turned to Beresford--resuming his attack +on Dale from another angle. + +"Beresford, did Fleming tell you why he came here tonight?" + +Beresford considered the question. + +"No. He seemed in a great hurry, said Miss Ogden had telephoned +him, and asked me to drive him over." + +"Why did you come up to the house?" + +"We-el," said Beresford with seeming candor, "I thought it was +putting rather a premium on friendship to keep me sitting out in +the rain all night, so I came up the drive--and, by the way!" He +snapped his fingers irritatedly, as if recalling some significant +incident that had slipped his memory, and drew a battered object +from his pocket. "I picked this up, about a hundred feet from the +house," he explained. "A man's watch. It was partly crushed into +the ground, and, as you see, it's stopped running." + +The detective took the object and examined it carefully. A man's +open-face gold watch, crushed and battered in as if it had been +trampled upon by a heavy heel. + +"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Stopped running at ten-thirty." + +Beresford went on, with mounting excitement. + +"I was using my pocket-flash to find my way and what first attracted +my attention was the ground--torn up, you know, all around it. +Then I saw the watch itself. Anybody here recognize it?" + +The detective silently held up the watch so that all present could +examine it. He waited. But if anyone in the party recognized the +watch--no one moved forward to claim it. + +"You didn't hear any evidence of a struggle, did you?" went on +Beresford. "The ground looked as if a fight had taken place. Of +course it might have been a dozen other things." + +Miss Cornelia started. + +"Just about ten-thirty Lizzie heard somebody cry out, in the grounds," +she said. + +The detective looked Beresford over till the latter grew a little +uncomfortable. + +"I don't suppose it has any bearing on the case," admitted the +latter uneasily. "But it's interesting." + +The detective seemed to agree. At least he slipped the watch in +his pocket. + +"Do you always carry a flashlight, Mr. Beresford?" asked Miss +Cornelia a trifle suspiciously. + +"Always at night, in the car." His reply was prompt and certain. + +"This is all you found?" queried the detective, a curious note +in his voice. + +"Yes." Beresford sat down, relieved. Miss Cornelia followed his +example. Another clue had led into a blind alley, leaving the +mystery of the night's affairs as impenetrable as ever. + +"Some day I hope to meet the real estate agent who promised me that +I would sleep here as I never slept before!" she murmured acridly. +"He's right! I've slept with my clothes on every night since I came!" + +As she ended, Billy darted in from the hall, his beady little black +eyes gleaming with excitement, a long, wicked-looking butcher knife +in his hand. + +"Key, kitchen door, please!" he said, addressing his mistress. + +"Key?" said Miss Cornelia, startled. "What for?" + +For once Billy's polite little grin was absent from his countenance. + +"Somebody outside trying to get in," he chattered. "I see knob turn, +so," he illustrated with the butcher knife, "and so--three times." + +The detective's hand went at once to his revolver. + +"You're sure of that, are you?" he said roughly to Billy. + +"Sure, I sure!" + +"Where's that hysterical woman Lizzie?" queried Anderson. "She may +get a bullet in her if she's not careful." + +"She see too. She shut in closet--say prayers, maybe," said Billy, +without a smile. + +The picture was a ludicrous one but not one of the little group +laughed. + +"Doctor, have you a revolver?" Anderson seemed to be going over +the possible means of defense against this new peril. + +"No." + +"How about you, Beresford?" + +Beresford hesitated. + +"Yes," he admitted finally. "Always carry one at night in the +country." The statement seemed reasonable enough but Miss Cornelia +gave him a sharp glance of mistrust, nevertheless. + +The detective seemed to have more confidence in the young idler. + +"Beresford, will you go with this Jap to the kitchen?" as Billy, +grimly clutching his butcher knife, retraced his steps toward the +hall. "If anyone's working at the knob--shoot through the door. +I'm going round to take a look outside." + +Beresford started to obey. Then he paused. + +"I advise you not to turn the doorknob yourself, then," he said +flippantly. + +The detective nodded. "Much obliged," he said, with a grin. He +ran lightly into the alcove and tiptoed out of the terrace door, +closing the door behind him. Beresford and Billy departed to take +up their posts in the kitchen. "I'll go with you, if you don't +mind--" and Jack Bailey had followed them, leaving Miss Cornelia +and Dale alone with the Doctor. Miss Cornelia, glad of the +opportunity to get the Doctor's theories on the mystery without +Anderson's interference, started to question him at once. + +"Doctor." + +"Yes." The Doctor turned, politely. + +"Have you any theory about this occurrence to-night?" She watched +him eagerly as she asked the question. + +He made a gesture of bafflement. + +"None whatever--it's beyond me," he confessed. + +"And yet you warned me to leave this house," said Miss Cornelia +cannily. "You didn't have any reason to believe that the +situation was even as serious as it has proved to be?" + +"I did the perfectly obvious thing when I warned you," said the +Doctor easily. "Those letters made a distinct threat." + +Miss Cornelia could not deny the truth in his words. And yet she +felt decidedly unsatisfied with the way things were progressing. + +"You said Fleming had probably been shot from above?" she queried, +thinking hard. + +The Doctor nodded. "Yes." + +"Have you a pocket-flash, Doctor?" she asked him suddenly. + +"Why--yes--" The Doctor did not seem to perceive the significance +of the query. "A flashlight is more important to a country Doctor +than--castor oil," he added, with a little smile. + +Miss Cornelia decided upon an experiment. She turned to Dale. + +"Dale, you said you saw a white light shining down from above?" + +"Yes," said Dale in a minor voice. + +Miss Cornelia rose. + +"May I borrow your flashlight, Doctor? Now that fool detective is +out of the way," she continued some what acidly, "I want to do +something." + +The Doctor gave her his flashlight with a stare of bewilderment. +She took it and moved into the alcove. + +"Doctor, I shall ask you to stand at the foot of the small staircase, +facing up." + +"Now?" queried the Doctor with some reluctance. + +"Now, please." + +The Doctor slowly followed her into the alcove and took up the +position she assigned him at the foot of the stairs. + +"Now, Dale," said Miss Cornelia briskly, "when I give the word, +you put out the lights here--and then tell me when I have reached +the point on the staircase from which the flashlight seemed to come. +All ready?" + +Two silent nods gave assent. Miss Cornelia left the room to seek +the second floor by the main staircase and then slowly return by +the alcove stairs, her flashlight poised, in her reconstruction of +the events of the crime. At the foot of the alcove stairs the +Doctor waited uneasily for her arrival. He glanced up the stairs +--were those her footsteps now? He peered more closely into the +darkness. + +An expression of surprise and apprehension came over his face. + +He glanced swiftly at Dale--was she watching him? No--she sat +in her chair, musing. He turned back toward the stairs and made a +frantic, insistent gesture--"Go back, go back!" it said, plainer +than words, to--Something--in the darkness by the head of the +stairs. Then his face relaxed, he gave a noiseless sigh of relief. + +Dale, rousing from her brown study, turned out the floor lamp by +the table and went over to the main light switch, awaiting Miss +Cornelia's signal to plunge the room in darkness. The Doctor stole, +another glance at her--had his gestures been observed?--apparently +not. + +Unobserved by either, as both waited tensely for Miss Cornelia's +signal, a Hand stole through the broken pane of the shattered French +window behind their backs and fumbled for the knob which unlocked +the window-door. It found the catch--unlocked it--the window-door +swung open, noiselessly--just enough to admit a crouching figure +that cramped itself uncomfortably behind the settee which Dale and +the Doctor had placed to barricade those very doors. When it had +settled itself, unperceived, in its lurking place--the Hand stole +out again--closed the window-door, relocked it. + +Hand or claw? Hand of man or woman or paw of beast? In the name +of God--WHOSE HAND? + +Miss Cornelia's voice from the head of the stairs broke the silence. + +"All right! Put out the lights!" + +Dale pressed the switch. Heavy darkness. The sound of her own +breathing. A mutter from the Doctor. Then, abruptly, a white, +piercing shaft of light cut the darkness of the stairs--horribly +reminiscent of that other light-shaft that had signaled Fleming's +doom. + +"Was it here?" Miss Cornelia's voice came muffledly from the head +of the stairs. + +Dale considered. "Come down a little," she said. The white spot +of light wavered, settled on the Doctor's face. + +"I hope you haven't a weapon," the Doctor called up the stairs with +an unsuccessful attempt at jocularity. + +Miss Cornelia descended another step. + +"How's this?" + +"That's about right," said Dale uncertainly. Miss Cornelia was +satisfied. + +"Lights, please." She went up the stairs again to see if she could +puzzle out what course of escape the man who had shot Fleming had +taken after his crime--if it had been a man. + +Dale switched on the living-room lights with a sense of relief. The +reconstruction of the crime had tried her sorely. She sat down to +recover her poise. + +"Doctor! I'm so frightened!" she confessed. + +The Doctor at once assumed his best manner of professional +reassurance. + +"Why, my dear child?" he asked lightly. "Because you happened to +be in the room when a crime was committed?" + +"But he has a perfect case against me," sighed Dale. + +"That's absurd!" + +"No." + +"YOU DON'T MEAN?" said the Doctor aghast. + +Dale looked at him with horror in her face. + +"I didn't kill him!" she insisted anew. "But, you know the piece +of blue-print you found in his hand?" + +"Yes," from the Doctor tensely. + +Dale's nerves, too bitterly tested, gave way at last under the +strain of keeping her secret. She felt that she must confide in +someone or perish. The Doctor was kind and thoughtful--more than +that, he was an experienced man of the world--if he could not +advise her, who could? Besides, a Doctor was in many ways like a +priest--both sworn to keep inviolate the secrets of their +respective confessionals. + +"There was another piece of blue-print, a larger piece--" said +Dale slowly, "I tore it from him just before--" + +The Doctor seemed greatly excited by her words. But he controlled +himself swiftly. + +"Why did you do such a thing?" + +"Oh, I'll explain that later," said Dale tiredly, only too glad to +be talking the matter out at last, to pay attention to the logic of +her sentences. "It's not safe where it is," she went on, as if the +Doctor already knew the whole story. "Billy may throw it out or +burn it without knowing--" + +"Let me understand this," said the Doctor. "The butler has the +paper now?" + +"He doesn't know he has it. It was in one of the rolls that went +out on the tray." + +The Doctor's eyes gleamed. He gave Dale's shoulder a sympathetic +pat. + +"Now don't you worry about it--I'll get it," he said. Then, on +the point of going toward the dining-room, he turned. + +"But--you oughtn't to have it in your possession," he said +thoughtfully. "Why not let it be burned?" + +Dale was on the defensive at once. + +"Oh, no! It's important, it's vital!" she said decidedly. + +The Doctor seemed to consider ways and means of getting the paper. + +"The tray is in the dining-room?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Dale. + +He thought a moment, then left the room by the hall door. Dale +sank back in her chair and felt a sense of overpowering relief +steal over her whole body, as if new life had been poured into her +veins. The Doctor had been so helpful--why had she not confided +in him before? He would know what to do with the paper--she would +have the benefit of his counsel through the rest of this troubled +time. For a moment she saw herself and Jack, exonerated, their +worries at an end, wandering hand in hand over the green lawns of +Cedarcrest in the cheerful sunlight of morning. + +Behind her, mockingly, the head of the Unknown concealed behind the +settee lifted cautiously until, if she had turned, she would have +just been able to perceive the top of its skull. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +THE BLACKENED BAG + +As it chanced, she did not turn. The hall door opened--the head +behind the settee sank down again. Jack Bailey entered, carrying +a couple of logs of firewood. + +Dale moved toward him as soon as he had shut the door. + +"Oh, things have gone awfully wrong, haven't they?" she said with +a little break in her voice. + +He put his finger to his lips. + +"Be careful!" he whispered. He glanced about the room cautiously. + +"I don't trust even the furniture in this house to-night!" he said. +He took Dale hungrily in his arms and kissed her once, swiftly, on +the lips. Then they parted--his voice changed to the formal voice +of a servant. + +"Miss Van Gorder wishes the fire kept burning," he announced, with +a whispered "Play up!" to Dale. + +Dale caught his meaning at once. + +"Put some logs on the fire, please," she said loudly, for the benefit +of any listening ears. Then in an undertone to Bailey, "Jack--I'm +nearly distracted!" + +Bailey threw his wood on the fire, which received it with +appreciative crackles and sputterings. Then again, for a moment, he +clasped his sweetheart closely to him. + +"Dale, pull yourself together!" he whispered warningly. "We've got +a fight ahead of us!" + +He released her and turned back toward the fire. + +"These old-fashioned fireplaces eat up a lot of wood," he said in +casual tones, pretending to arrange the logs with the poker so the +fire would draw more cleanly. + +But Dale felt that she must settle one point between them before +they took up their game of pretense again. + +"You know why I sent for Richard Fleming, don't you?" she said, her +eyes fixed beseechingly on her lover. The rest of the world might +interpret her action as it pleased--she couldn't bear to have +Jack misunderstand. + +But there was no danger of that. His faith in her was too complete. + +"Yes--of course--" he said, with a look of gratitude. Then his +mind reverted to the ever-present problem before them. "But who +in God's name killed him?" he muttered, kneeling before the fire. + +"You don't think it was--Billy?" Dale saw Billy's face before her +for a moment, calm, impassive. But he was an Oriental--an alien-- +his face might be just as calm, just as impassive while his hands +were still red with blood. She shuddered at the thought. + +Bailey considered the matter. + +"More likely the man Lizzie saw going upstairs," he said finally. +"But--I've been all over the upper floors." + +"And--nothing?" breathed Dale. + +"Nothing." Bailey's voice had an accent of dour finality. "Dale, +do you think that--" he began. + +Some instinct warned the girl that they were not to continue their +conversation uninterrupted. "Be careful!" she breathed, as +footsteps sounded in the hall. Bailey nodded and turned back to +his pretense of mending the fire. Dale moved away from him slowly. + +The door opened and Miss Cornelia entered, her black knitting-bag +in her hand, on her face a demure little smile of triumph. She +closed the door carefully behind her and began to speak at once. + +"Well, Mr. Alopecia--Urticaria--Rubeola--otherwise BAILEY!" she +said in tones of the greatest satisfaction, addressing herself to +Bailey's rigid back. Bailey jumped to his feet mechanically at +her mention of his name. He and Dale exchanged one swift and +hopeless glance of utter defeat. + +"I wish," proceeded Miss Cornelia, obviously enjoying the situation +to the full, "I wish you young people would remember that even if +hair and teeth have fallen out at sixty the mind still functions." + +She pulled out a cabinet photograph from the depths of her +knitting-bag. + +"His photograph--sitting on your dresser!" she chided Dale. "Burn +it and be quick about it!" + +Dale took the photograph but continued to stare at her aunt with +incredulous eyes. + +"Then--you knew?" she stammered. + +Miss Cornelia, the effective little tableau she had planned now +accomplished to her most humorous satisfaction, relapsed into a +chair. + +"My dear child," said the indomitable lady, with a sharp glance at +Bailey's bewildered face, "I have employed many gardeners in my time +and never before had one who manicured his fingernails, wore silk +socks, and regarded baldness as a plant instead of a calamity." + +An unwilling smile began to break on the faces of both Dale and her +lover. The former crossed to the fireplace and threw the damning +photograph of Bailey on the flames. She watched it shrivel--curl +up--be reduced to ash. She stirred the ashes with a poker till +they were well scattered. + +Bailey, recovering from the shock of finding that Miss Cornelia's +sharp eyes had pierced his disguise without his even suspecting it, +now threw himself on her mercy. + +"Then you know why I'm here?" he stammered. + +"I still have a certain amount of imagination! I may think you are +a fool for taking the risk, but I can see what that idiot of a +detective might not--that if you had looted the Union Bank you +wouldn't be trying to discover if the money is in this house. You +would at least presumably know where it is." + +The knowledge that he had an ally in this brisk and indomitable +spinster lady cheered him greatly. But she did not wait for any +comment from him. She turned abruptly to Dale. + +"Now I want to ask you something," she said more gravely. "Was +there a blue-print, and did you get it from Richard Fleming?" + +It was Dale's turn now to bow her head. + +"Yes," she confessed. + +Bailey felt a thrill of horror run through him. She hadn't told +him this! + +"Dale!" he said uncomprehendingly, "don't you see where this places +you? If you had it, why didn't you give it to Anderson when he +asked for it?" + +"Because," said Miss Cornelia uncompromisingly, "she had sense +enough to see that Mr. Anderson considered that piece of paper the +final link in the evidence against her!" + +"But she could have no motive!" stammered Bailey, distraught, still +failing to grasp the significance of Dale's refusal. + +"Couldn't she?" queried Miss Cornelia pityingly. "The detective +thinks she could--to save you!" + +Now the full light of revelation broke upon Bailey. He took a step +back. + +"Good God!" he said. + +Miss Cornelia would have liked to comment tartly upon the singular +lack of intelligence displayed by even the nicest young men in +trying circumstances. But there was no time. They might be +interrupted at any moment and before they were, there were things +she must find out. + +"Where is that paper, now?" she asked Dale sharply; + +"Why--the Doctor is getting it for me." Dale seemed puzzled by the +intensity of her aunt's manner. + +"What?" almost shouted Miss Cornelia. Dale explained. + +"It was on the tray Billy took out," she said, still wondering why +so simple an answer should disturb Miss Cornelia so greatly. + +"Then I'm afraid everything's over," Miss Cornelia said despairingly, +and made her first gesture of defeat. She turned away. Dale +followed her, still unable to fathom her course of reasoning. + +"I didn't know what else to do," she said rather plaintively, +wondering if again, as with Fleming, she had misplaced her confidence +at a moment critical for them all. + +But Miss Cornelia seemed to have no great patience with her dejection. + +"One of two things will happen now," she said, with acrid, logic. +"Either the Doctor's an honest man--in which case, as coroner, he +will hand that paper to the detective--" Dale gasped. "Or he is not +an honest man," went on Miss Cornelia, "and he will keep it for +himself. I don't think he's an honest man." + +The frank expression of her distrust seemed to calm her a little. +She resumed her interrogation of Dale more gently. + +"Now, let's be clear about this. Had Richard Fleming ascertained +that there was a concealed room in this house?" + +"He was starting up to it!" said Dale in the voice of a ghost, +remembering. + +"Just what did you tell him?" + +"That I believed there was a Hidden Room in the house--and that the +money from the Union Bank might be in it." + +Again, for the millionth time, indeed it seemed to her, she reviewed +the circumstances of the crime. + +"Could anyone have overheard?" asked Miss Cornelia. + +The question had rung in Dale's ears ever since she had come to her +senses after the firing of the shot and seen Fleming's body stark +on the floor of the alcove. + +"I don't know," she said. "We were very cautious." + +"You don't know where this room is?" + +"No, I never saw the print. Upstairs somewhere, for he--" + +"Upstairs! Then the thing to do, if we can get that paper from the +Doctor, is to locate the room at once." + +Jack Bailey did not recognize the direction where her thoughts were +tending. It seemed terrible to him that anyone should devote a +thought to the money while Dale was still in danger. + +"What does the money matter now?" he broke in somewhat irritably. +"We've got to save her!" and his eyes went to Dale. + +Miss Cornelia gave him an ineffable look of weary patience. + +"The money matters a great deal," she said, sensibly. "Someone was +in this house on the same errand as Richard Fleming. After all," +she went on with a tinge of irony, "the course of reasoning that +you followed, Mr. Bailey, is not necessarily unique." + +She rose. + +"Somebody else may have suspected that Courtleigh Fleming robbed +his own bank," she said thoughtfully. Her eye fell on the Doctor's +professional bag--she seemed to consider it as if it were a strange +sort of animal. + +"Find the man who followed your course of reasoning," she ended, +with a stare at Bailey, "and you have found the murderer." + +"With that reasoning you might suspect me!" said the latter a trifle +touchily. + +Miss Cornelia did not give an inch. + +"I have," she said. Dale shot a swift, sympathetic glance at her +lover, another less sympathetic and more indignant at her aunt. +Miss Cornelia smiled. + +"However, I now suspect somebody else," she said. They waited for +her to reveal the name of the suspect but she kept her own counsel. +By now she had entirely given up confidence if not in the probity +at least in the intelligence of all persons, male or female, under +the age of sixty-five. + +She rang the bell for Billy. But Dale was still worrying over the +possible effects of the confidence she had given Doctor Wells. + +"Then you think the Doctor may give this paper to Mr. Anderson?" +she asked. + +"He may or he may not. It is entirely possible that he may elect +to search for this room himself! He may even already have gone +upstairs!" + +She moved quickly to the door and glanced across toward the +dining-room, but so far apparently all was safe. The Doctor was +at the table making a pretense of drinking a cup of coffee and +Billy was in close attendance. That the Doctor already had the +paper she was certain; it was the use he intended to make of it +that was her concern. + +She signaled to the Jap and he came out into the hall. Beresford, +she learned, was still in the kitchen with his revolver, waiting +for another attempt on the door and the detective was still outside +in his search. To Billy she gave her order in a low voice. + +"If the Doctor attempts to go upstairs," she said, "let me know at +once. Don't seem to be watching. You can be in the pantry. But +let me know instantly." + +Once back in the living-room the vague outlines of a plan--a test-- +formed slowly in Miss Cornelia's mind, grew more definite. + +"Dale, watch that door and warn me if anyone is coming!" she +commanded, indicating the door into the hall. Dale obeyed, +marveling silently at her aunt's extraordinary force of character. +Most of Miss Cornelia's contemporaries would have called for a quiet +ambulance to take them to a sanatorium some hours ere this--but +Miss Cornelia was not merely, comparatively speaking, as fresh as a +daisy; her manner bore every evidence of a firm intention to play +Sherlock Holmes to the mysteries that surrounded her, in spite of +Doctors, detectives, dubious noises, or even the Bat himself. + +The last of the Van Gorder spinsters turned to Bailey now. + +"Get some soot from that fireplace," she ordered. "Be quick. +Scrape it off with a knife or a piece of paper. Anything." + +Bailey wondered and obeyed. As he was engaged in his grimy task, +Miss Cornelia got out a piece of writing paper from a drawer and +placed it on the center table, with a lead pencil beside it. + +Bailey emerged from the fireplace with a handful of sooty flakes. + +"Is this all right?" + +"Yes. Now rub it on the handle of that bag." She indicated the +little black bag in which Doctor Wells carried the usual +paraphernalia of a country Doctor. + +A private suspicion grew in Bailey's mind as to whether Miss +Cornelia's fine but eccentric brain had not suffered too sorely +under the shocks of the night. But he did not dare disobey. He +blackened the handle of the Doctor's bag with painstaking +thoroughness and awaited further instructions. + +"Somebody's coming!" Dale whispered, warning from her post by the +door. + +Bailey quickly went to the fireplace and resumed his pretended +labors with the fire. Miss Cornelia moved away from the Doctor's +bag and spoke for the benefit of whoever might be coming. + +"We all need sleep," she began, as if ending a conversation with +Dale, "and I think--" + +The door opened, admitting Billy. + +"Doctor just go upstairs," he said, and went out again leaving the +door open. + +A flash passed across Miss Cornelia's face. She stepped to the door. +She called. + +"Doctor! Oh, Doctor!" + +"Yes?" answered the Doctor's voice from the main staircase. His +steps clattered down the stairs--he entered the room. Perhaps he +read something in Miss Cornelia's manner that demanded an explanation +of his action. At any rate, he forestalled her, just as she was +about to question him. + +"I was about to look around above," he said. "I don't like to leave +if there is the possibility of some assassin still hidden in the +house." + +"That is very considerate of you. But we are well protected now. +And besides, why should this person remain in the house? The murder +is done, the police are here." + +"True," he said. "I only thought--" + +But a knocking at the terrace door interrupted him. While the +attention of the others was turned in that direction Dale, less +cynical than her aunt, made a small plea to him and realized before +she had finished with it that the Doctor too had his price. + +"Doctor--did you get it?" she repeated, drawing the Doctor aside. + +The Doctor gave her a look of apparent bewilderment. + +"My dear child," he said softly, "are you sure that you put it +there?" + +Dale felt as if she had received a blow in the face. + +"Why, yes--I--" she began in tones of utter dismay. Then she +stopped. The Doctor's seeming bewilderment was too pat--too +plausible. Of course she was sure--and, though possible, it +seemed extremely unlikely that anyone else could have discovered +the hiding-place of the blue-print in the few moments that had +elapsed between the time when Billy took the tray from the room +and the time when the Doctor ostensibly went to find it. A cold +wave of distrust swept over her--she turned away from the Doctor +silently. + +Meanwhile Anderson had entered, slamming the terrace-door behind +him. + +"I couldn't find anybody!" he said in an irritated voice. "I think +that Jap's crazy." + +The Doctor began to struggle into his topcoat, avoiding any look +at Dale. + +"Well," he said, "I believe I've fulfilled all the legal requirements +--I think I must be going." He turned toward the door but the +detective halted him. + +"Doctor," he said, "did you ever hear Courtleigh Fleming mention a +Hidden Room in this house?" + +If the Doctor started, the movement passed apparently unnoted by +Anderson. And his reply was coolly made. + +"No--and I knew him rather well." + +"You don't think then," persisted the detective, "that such a room +and the money in it could be the motive for this crime?" + +The Doctor's voice grew a little curt. + +"I don't believe Courtleigh Fleming robbed his own bank, if that's +what you mean," he said with nicely calculated emphasis, real or +feigned. He crossed over to get his bag and spoke to Miss Cornelia. + +"Well, Miss Van Gorder," he said, picking up the bag by its blackened +handle, "I can't wish you a comfortable night but I can wish you a +quiet one." + +Miss Cornelia watched him silently. As he turned to go, she spoke. + +"We're all of us a little upset, naturally," she confessed. "Perhaps +you could write a prescription--a sleeping-powder or a bromide of +some sort." + +"Why, certainly," agreed the Doctor at once. He turned back. Miss +Cornelia seemed pleased. + +"I hoped you would," she said with a little tremble in her voice +such as might easily occur in the voice of a nervous old lady. "Oh, +yes, here's paper and a pencil," as the Doctor fumbled in a pocket. + +The Doctor took the sheet of paper she proffered and, using the side +of his bag as a pad, began to write out the prescription. + +"I don't generally advise these drugs," he said, looking up for a +moment. "Still--" + +He paused. "What time is it?" + +Miss Cornelia glanced at the clock. "Half-past eleven." + +"Then I'd better bring you the powders myself," decided the Doctor. +"The pharmacy closes at eleven. I shall have to make them up myself." + +"That seems a lot of trouble." + +"Nothing is any trouble if I can be helpful," he assured her, +smilingly. And Miss Cornelia also smiled, took the piece of paper +from his hand, glanced at it once, as if out of idle curiosity about +the unfinished prescription, and then laid it down on the table with +a careless little gesture. Dale gave her aunt a glance of dumb +entreaty. Miss Cornelia read her wish for another moment alone with +the Doctor. + +"Dale will let you out, Doctor," said she, giving the girl the key +to the front door, + +The Doctor approved her watchfulness. + +"That's right," he said smilingly. "Keep things locked up. +Discretion is the better part of valor!" + +But Miss Cornelia failed to agree with him. + +"I've been discreet for sixty-five years," she said with a sniff, +"and sometimes I think it was a mistake!" + +The Doctor laughed easily and followed Dale out of the room, with a +nod of farewell to the others in passing. The detective, seeking +for some object upon whom to vent the growing irritation which +seemed to possess him, made Bailey the scapegoat of his wrath. + +"I guess we can do without you for the present!" he said, with an +angry frown at the latter. Bailey flushed, then remembered himself, +and left the room submissively, with the air of a well-trained +servant accepting an unmerited rebuke. The detective turned at once +to Miss Cornelia. + +"Now I want a few words with you!" + +"Which means that you mean to do all the talking!" said Miss Cornelia +acidly. "Very well! But first I want to show you something. Will +you come here, please, Mr. Anderson?" + +She started for the alcove. + +"I've examined that staircase," said the detective. + +"Not with me!" insisted Miss Cornelia. "I have something to show +you." + +He followed her unwillingly up the stairs, his whole manner seeming +to betray a complete lack of confidence in the theories of all +amateur sleuths in general and spinster detectives of sixty-five in +particular. Their footsteps died away up the alcove stairs. The +living-room was left vacant for an instant. + +Vacant? Only in seeming. The moment that Miss Cornelia and the +detective had passed up the stairs, the crouching, mysterious +Unknown, behind the settee, began to move. The French window-door +opened--a stealthy figure passed through it silently to be +swallowed up in the darkness of the terrace. + +And poor Lizzie, entering the room at that moment, saw a hand +covered with blood reach back and gropingly, horribly, through the +broken pane, refasten the lock. + +She shrieked madly. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +HANDCUFFS + +Dale had failed with the Doctor. When Lizzie's screams once more +had called the startled household to the living-room, she knew she +had failed. She followed in mechanically, watched an irritated +Anderson send the Pride of Kerry to bed and threaten to lock her +up, and listened vaguely to the conversation between her aunt and +the detective that followed it, without more than casual interest. + +Nevertheless, that conversation was to have vital results later on. + +"Your point about that thumbprint on the stair rail is very +interesting," Anderson said with a certain respect. "But just what +does it prove?" + +"It points down," said Miss Cornelia, still glowing with the memory +of the whistle of surprise the detective had given when she had +shown him the strange thumbprint on the rail of the alcove stairs. + +"It does," he admitted. "But what then?" + +Miss Cornelia tried to put her case as clearly and tersely as +possible. + +"It shows that somebody stood there for some time, listening to my +niece and Richard Fleming in this room below," she said. + +"All right--I'll grant that to save argument," retorted the +detective. "But the moment that shot was fired the lights came on. +If somebody on that staircase shot him, and then came down and took +the blue-print, Miss Ogden would have seen him." + + He turned upon Dale. + +"Did you?" + +She hesitated. Why hadn't she thought of such an explanation before? +But now--it would sound too flimsy! + +"No, nobody came down," she admitted candidly. The detective's +face altered, grew menacing. Miss Cornelia once more had put +herself between him and Dale. + +"Now, Mr. Anderson--" she warned. + +The detective was obviously trying to keep his temper. + +"I'm not hounding this girl!" he said doggedly. "I haven't said +yet that she committed the murder--but she took that blue-print and +I want it!" + +"You want it to connect her with the murder," parried Miss Cornelia. + +The detective threw up his hands. + +"It's rather reasonable to suppose that I might want to return the +funds to the Union Bank, isn't it?" he queried in tones of heavy +sarcasm. "Provided they're here," he added doubtfully. + +Miss Cornelia resolved upon comparative frankness. + +"I see," she said. "Well, I'll tell you this much, Mr. Anderson, +and I'll ask you to believe me as a lady. Granting that at one +time my niece knew something of that blue-print--at this moment +we do not know where it is or who has it." + +Her words had the unmistakable ring of truth. The very oath from +the detective that succeeded them showed his recognition of the +fact. + +"Damnation," he muttered. "That's true, is it?" + +"That's true," said Miss Cornelia firmly. A silence of troubled +thoughts fell upon the three. Miss Cornelia took out her knitting. + +"Did you ever try knitting when you wanted to think?" she queried +sweetly, after a pause in which the detective tramped from one side +of the room to the other, brows knotted, eyes bent on the floor. + +"No," grunted the detective. He took out a cigar--bit off the end +with a savage snap of teeth--lit it--resumed his pacing. + +"You should, sometimes," continued Miss Cornelia, watching his +troubled movements with a faint light of mockery in her eyes. "I +find it very helpful." + +"I don't need knitting to think straight," rasped Anderson +indignantly. Miss Cornelia's eyes danced. + +"I wonder!" she said with caustic affability. "You seem to have +so much evidence left over." + +The detective paused and glared at her helplessly. + +"Did you ever hear of the man who took a clock apart--and when he +put it together again, he had enough left over to make another +clock?" she twitted. + +The detective, ignoring the taunt, crossed quickly to Dale. + +"What do you mean by saying that paper isn't where you put it?" +he demanded in tones of extreme severity. Miss Cornelia replied +for her niece. + +"She hasn't said that." + +The detective made an impatient movement of his hand and walked +away--as if to get out of the reach of the indefatigable spinster's +tongue. But Miss Cornelia had not finished with him yet, by any +means. + +"Do you believe in circumstantial evidence?" she asked him with +seeming ingenuousness. + +"It's my business," said the detective stolidly. Miss Cornelia +smiled. + +"While you have been investigating," she announced, "I, too, have +not been idle." + +The detective gave a barking laugh. She let it pass. "To me," +she continued, "it is perfectly obvious that one intelligence has +been at work behind many of the things that have occurred in this +house." + +Now Anderson observed her with a new respect. + +"Who?" he grunted tersely. + +Her eyes flashed. + +"I'll ask you that! Some one person who, knowing Courtleigh Fleming +well, probably knows of the existence of a Hidden Room in this house +and who, finding us in occupation of the house, has tried to get rid +of me in two ways. First, by frightening me with anonymous threats +--and, second, by urging me to leave. Someone, who very possibly +entered this house tonight shortly before the murder and slipped up +that staircase!" + +The detective had listened to her outburst with unusual +thoughtfulness. A certain wonder--perhaps at her shrewdness, +perhaps at an unexpected confirmation of certain ideas of his own +--grew upon his face. Now he jerked out two words. + +"The Doctor?" + +Miss Cornelia knitted on as if every movement of her needles added +one more link to the strong chain of probabilities she was piecing +together. + +"When Doctor Wells said he was leaving here earlier in the evening +for the Johnsons' he did not go there," she observed. "He was not +expected to go there. I found that out when I telephoned." + +"The Doctor!" repeated the detective, his eyes narrowing, his head +beginning to sway from side to side like the head of some great cat +just before a spring. + +"As you know," Miss Cornelia went on, "I had a supplementary bolt +placed on that terrace door today." She nodded toward the door that +gave access into the alcove from the terrace. "Earlier this evening +Doctor Wells said that he had bolted it, when he had left it open-- +purposely, as I now realize, in order that he might return later. +You may also recall that Doctor Wells took a scrap of paper from +Richard Fleming's hand and tried to conceal it--why did he do that?" + +She paused for a second. Then she changed her tone a little. + +"May I ask you to look at this?" + +She displayed the piece of paper on which Doctor Wells had started +to write the prescription for her sleeping-powders--and now her +strategy with the doctor's bag and the soot Jack Bailey had got from +the fireplace stood revealed. A sharp, black imprint of a man's +right thumb--the Doctor's--stood out on the paper below the broken +line of writing. The Doctor had not noticed the staining of his +hand by the blackened bag handle, or, noticing, had thought nothing +of it--but the blackened bag handle had been a trap, and he had +left an indelible piece of evidence behind him. It now remained to +test the value of this evidence. + +Miss Cornelia handed the paper to Anderson silently. But her eyes +were bright with pardonable vanity at the success of her little +piece of strategy. + +"A thumb-print," muttered Anderson. "Whose is it?" + +"Doctor Wells," said Miss Cornelia with what might have been a +little crow of triumph in anyone not a Van Gorder. + +Anderson looked thoughtful. Then he felt in his pocket for a +magnifying glass, failed to find it, muttered, and took the reading +glass Miss Cornelia offered him. + +"Try this," she said. "My whole case hangs on my conviction that +that print and the one out there on the stair rail are the same." + +He put down the paper and smiled at her ironically. "Your case!" +he said. "You don't really believe you need a detective at all, +do you?" + +"I will only say that so far your views and mine have failed to +coincide. If I am right about that fingerprint, then you may be +right about my private opinion." + +And on that he went out, rather grimly, paper and reading glass in +hand, to make his comparison. + +It was then that Beresford came in, a new and slightly rigid +Beresford, and crossed to her at once. + +"Miss Van Gorder," he said, all the flippancy gone from his voice, +"may I ask you to make an excuse and call your gardener here?" + +Dale started uncontrollably at the ominous words, but Miss +Cornelia betrayed no emotion except in the increased rapidity of +her knitting. + +"The gardener? Certainly, if you'll touch that bell," she said +pleasantly. + +Beresford stalked to the bell and rang it. The three waited--Dale +in an agony of suspense. + +The detective re-entered the room by the alcove stairs, his mien +unfathomable by any of the anxious glances that sought him out at +once. + +"It's no good, Miss Van Gorder," he said quietly. "The prints are +not the same." + +"Not the same!" gasped Miss Cornelia, unwilling to believe her ears. + +Anderson laid down the paper and the reading glass with a little +gesture of dismissal. + +"If you think I'm mistaken, I'll leave it to any unprejudiced person +or your own eyesight. Thumbprints never lie," he said in a flat, +convincing voice. Miss Cornelia stared at him--disappointment +written large on her features. He allowed himself a little ironic +smile. + +"Did you ever try a good cigar when you wanted to think?" he queried +suavely, puffing upon his own. + +But Miss Cornelia's spirit was too broken by the collapse of her +dearly loved and adroitly managed scheme for her to take up the +gauge of battle he offered. + +"I still believe it was the Doctor," she said stubbornly. But her +tones were not the tones of utter conviction which she had used +before. + +"And yet," said the detective, ruthlessly demolishing another link +in her broken chain of evidence, "the Doctor was in this room +tonight, according to your own statement, when the anonymous letter +came through the window." + +Miss Cornelia gazed at him blankly, for the first time in her life +at a loss for an appropriately sharp retort. It was true--the +Doctor had been here in the room beside her when the stone bearing +the last anonymous warning had crashed through the windowpane. And +yet-- + +Billy's entrance in answer to Beresford's ring made her mind turn +to other matters for the moment. Why had Beresford's manner changed +so, and what was he saying to Billy now? + +"Tell the gardener Miss Van Gorder wants him and don't say we're +all here," the young lawyer commanded the butler sharply. Billy +nodded and disappeared. Miss Cornelia's back began to stiffen--she +didn't like other people ordering her servants around like that. + +The detective, apparently, had somewhat of the same feeling. + +"I seem to have plenty of help in this case!" he said with obvious +sarcasm, turning to Beresford. + +The latter made no reply. Dale rose anxiously from her chair, her +lips quivering. + +"Why have you sent for the gardener?" she inquired haltingly. + +Beresford deigned to answer at last. + +"I'll tell you that in a moment," he said with a grim tightening +of his lips. + +There was a fateful pause, for an instant, while Dale roved +nervously from one side of the room to the other. Then Jack Bailey +came into the room--alone. + +He seemed to sense danger in the air. His hands clenched at his +sides, but except for that tiny betrayal of emotion, he still kept +his servant's pose. + +"You sent for me?" he queried of Miss Cornelia submissively, ignoring +the glowering Beresford. + +But Beresford would be ignored no longer. He came between them +before Miss Cornelia had time to answer. + +"How long has this man been in your employ?" he asked brusquely, +manner tense. + +Miss Cornelia made one final attempt at evasion. "Why should that +interest you?" she parried, answering his question with an icy +question of her own. + +It was too late. Already Bailey had read the truth in Beresford's +eyes. + +"I came this evening," he admitted, still hoping against hope that +his cringing posture of the servitor might give Beresford pause for +the moment. + +But the promptness of his answer only crystallized Beresford's +suspicions. + +"Exactly," he said with terse finality. He turned to the detective. + +"I've been trying to recall this man's face ever since I came in +tonight--" he said with grim triumph. "Now, I know who he is." + +"Who is he?" + +Bailey straightened up. He had lost his game with Chance--and the +loss, coming when it did, seemed bitterer than even he had thought +it could be, but before they took him away he would speak his mind. + +"It's all right, Beresford," he said with a fatigue so deep that it +colored his voice like flakes of iron-rust. "I know you think you're +doing your duty--but I wish to God you could have restrained your +sense of duty for about three hours more!" + +"To let you get away?" the young lawyer sneered, unconvinced. + +"No," said Bailey with quiet defiance. "To let me finish what I +came here to do." + +"Don't you think you have done enough?" Beresford's voice flicked +him with righteous scorn, no less telling because of its +youthfulness. He turned back to the detective soberly enough. + +"This man has imposed upon the credulity of these women, I am quite +sure without their knowledge," he said with a trace of his former +gallantry. "He is Bailey of the Union Bank, the missing cashier." + +The detective slowly put down his cigar on an ash tray. + +"That's the truth, is it?" he demanded. + +Dale's hand flew to her breast. If Jack would only deny it--even +now! But even as she thought this, she realized the uselessness +of any such denial. + +Bailey realized it, too. + +"It's true, all right," he admitted hopelessly. He closed his eyes +for a moment. Let them come with the handcuffs now and get it over. +--every moment the scene dragged out was a moment of unnecessary +torture for Dale. + +But Beresford had not finished with his indictment. "I accuse him +not only of the thing he is wanted for, but of the murder of Richard +Fleming!" he said fiercely, glaring at Bailey as if only a youthful +horror of making a scene before Dale and Miss Cornelia held him back +from striking the latter down where he stood. + +Bailey's eyes snapped open. He took a threatening step toward his +accuser. "You lie!" he said in a hoarse, violent voice. + +Anderson crossed between them, just as conflict seemed inevitable. + +"You knew this?" he queried sharply in Dale's direction. + +Dale set her lips in a line. She did not answer. + +He turned to Miss Cornelia. + +"Did you?" + +"Yes," admitted the latter quietly, her knitting needles at last at +rest. "I knew he was Mr. Bailey if that is all you mean." + +The quietness of her answer seemed to infuriate the detective. + +"Quite a pretty little conspiracy," he said. "How in the name of +God do you expect me to do anything with the entire household united +against me? Tell me that." + +"Exactly," said Miss Cornelia. "And if we are united against you, +why should I have sent for you? You might tell me that, too." + +He turned on Bailey savagely. + +"What did you mean by that 'three hours more'?" he demanded. + +"I could have cleared myself in three hours," said Bailey with calm +despair. + +Beresford laughed mockingly--a laugh that seemed to sear into +Bailey's consciousness like the touch of a hot iron. Again he +turned frenziedly upon the young lawyer--and Anderson was just +preparing to hold them away from each other, by force if necessary, +when the doorbell rang. + +For an instant the ringing of the bell held the various figures of +the little scene in the rigid postures of a waxworks tableau-- +Bailey, one foot advanced toward Beresford, his hands balled up +into fists--Beresford already in an attitude of defense--the +detective about to step in between them--Miss Cornelia stiff in +her chair--Dale over by the fireplace, her hand at her heart. +Then they relaxed, but not, at least on the part of Bailey and +Beresford, to resume their interrupted conflict. Too many +nerve-shaking things had already happened that night for either +of the young men not to drop their mutual squabble in the face +of a common danger. + +"Probably the Doctor," murmured Miss Cornelia uncertainly as the +doorbell rang again. "He was to come back with some sleeping-powders." + +Billy appeared for the key of the front door. + +"If that's Doctor Wells," warned the detective, "admit him. If it's +anybody else, call me." + +Billy grinned acquiescently and departed. The detective moved nearer +to Bailey. + +"Have you got a gun on you?" + +"No." Bailey bowed his head. + +"Well, I'll just make sure of that." The detective's hands ran +swiftly and expertly over Bailey's form, through his pockets, +probing for concealed weapons. Then, slowly drawing a pair of +handcuffs from his pocket, he prepared to put them on Bailey's +wrists. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +THE SIGN OF THE BAT + +But Dale could bear it no longer. The sight of her lover, beaten, +submissive, his head bowed, waiting obediently like a common criminal +for the detective to lock his wrists in steel broke down her last +defenses. She rushed into the center of the room, between Bailey +and the detective, her eyes wild with terror, her words stumbling +over each other in her eagerness to get them out. + +"Oh, no! I can't stand it! I'll tell you everything!" she cried +frenziedly. "He got to the foot of the stair-case--Richard Fleming, +I mean," she was facing the detective now, "and he had the blue-print +you've been talking about. I had told him Jack Bailey was here as +the gardener and he said if I screamed he would tell that. I was +desperate. I threatened him with the revolver but he took it from me. +Then when I tore the blue-print from him--he was shot--from the +stairs--" + +"By Bailey!" interjected Beresford angrily. + +"I didn't even know he was in the house!" Bailey's answer was as +instant as it was hot. Meanwhile, the Doctor had entered the room, +hardly noticed, in the middle of Dale's confession, and now stood +watching the scene intently from a post by the door. + +"What did you do with the blue-print?" The detective's voice beat +at Dale like a whip. + +"I put it first in the neck of my dress--" she faltered. "Then, +when I found you were watching me, I hid it somewhere else." + +Her eyes fell on the Doctor. She saw his hand steal out toward the +knob of the door. Was he going to run away on some pretext before +she could finish her story? She gave a sigh of relief when Billy, +re-entering with the key to the front door, blocked any such attempt +at escape. + +Mechanically she watched Billy cross to the table, lay the key upon +it, and return to the hall without so much as a glance at the tense, +suspicious circle of faces focused upon herself and her lover. + +"I put it--somewhere else," she repeated, her eyes going back to +the Doctor. + +"Did you give it to Bailey?" + +"No--I hid it--and then I told where it was--to the Doctor--" +Dale swayed on her feet. All turned surprisedly toward the Doctor. +Miss Cornelia rose from her chair. + +The Doctor bore the battery of eyes unflinchingly. "That's rather +inaccurate," he said, with a tight little smile. "You told me where +you had placed it, but when I went to look for it, it was gone." + +"Are you quite sure of that?" queried Miss Cornelia acidly. + +"Absolutely," he said. He ignored the rest of the party, addressing +himself directly to Anderson. + +"She said she had hidden it inside one of the rolls that were on +the tray on that table," he continued in tones of easy explanation, +approaching the table as he did so, and tapping it with the box of +sleeping-powders he had brought for Miss Cornelia. + +"She was in such distress that I finally went to look for it. It +wasn't there." + +"Do you realize the significance of this paper?" Anderson boomed +at once. + +"Nothing, beyond the fact that Miss Ogden was afraid it linked her +with the crime." The Doctor's voice was very clear and firm. + +Anderson pondered an instant. Then-- + +"I'd like to have a few minutes with the Doctor alone," he said +somberly. + +The group about him dissolved at once. Miss Cornelia, her arm +around her niece's waist, led the latter gently to the door. As +the two lovers passed each other a glance flashed between them--a +glance, pathetically brief, of longing and love. Dale's finger +tips brushed Bailey's hand gently in passing. + +"Beresford," commanded the detective, "take Bailey to the library +and see that he stays there." + +Beresford tapped his pocket with a significant gesture and motioned +Bailey to the door. Then they, too, left the room. The door closed. +The Doctor and the detective were alone. + +The detective spoke at once--and surprisingly. + +"Doctor, I'll have that blue-print!" he said sternly, his eyes the +color of steel. + +The Doctor gave him a wary little glance. + +"But I've just made the statement that I didn't find the blue-print," +he affirmed flatly. + +"I heard you!" Anderson's voice was very dry. "Now this situation +is between you and me, Doctor Wells." His forefinger sought the +Doctor's chest. "It has nothing to do with that poor fool of a +cashier. He hasn't got either those securities or the money from +them and you know it. It's in this house and you know that, too!" + +"In this house?" repeated the Doctor as if stalling for time. + +"In this house! Tonight, when you claimed to be making a +professional call, you were in this house--and I think you were +on that staircase when Richard Fleming was killed!" + +"No, Anderson, I'll swear I was not!" The Doctor might be acting, +but if he was, it was incomparable acting. The terror in his voice +seemed too real to be feigned. + +But Anderson was remorseless. + +"I'll tell you this," he continued. "Miss Van Gorder very cleverly +got a thumbprint of yours tonight. Does that mean anything to you?" + +His eyes bored into the Doctor--the eyes of a poker player bluffing +on a hidden card. But the Doctor did not flinch. + +"Nothing," he said firmly. "I have not been upstairs in this house +in three months." + +The accent of truth in his voice seemed so unmistakable that even +Anderson's shrewd brain was puzzled by it. But he persisted in his +attempt to wring a confession from this latest suspect. + +"Before Courtleigh Fleming died--did he tell you anything about a +Hidden Room in this house?" he queried cannily. + +The Doctor's confident air of honesty lessened, a furtive look +appeared in his eyes. + +"No," he insisted, but not as convincingly as he had made his +previous denial. + +The detective hammered at the point again. + +"You haven't been trying to frighten these women out of here with +anonymous letters so you could get in?" + +"No. Certainly not." But again the Doctor's air had that odd +mixture of truth and falsehood in it. + +The detective paused for an instant. + +"Let me see your key ring!" he ordered. The Doctor passed it over +silently. The detective glanced at the keys--then, suddenly, his +revolver glittered in his other hand. + +The Doctor watched him anxiously. A puff of wind rattled the panes +of the French windows. The storm, quieted for a while, was gathering +its strength for a fresh unleashing of its dogs of thunder. + +The detective stepped to the terrace door, opened it, and then +quietly proceeded to try the Doctor's keys in the lock. Thus located +he was out of visual range, and Wells took advantage of it at once. +He moved swiftly toward the fireplace, extracting the missing piece of +blue-print from an inside pocket as he did so. The secret the +blue-print guarded was already graven on his mind in indelible +characters--now he would destroy all evidence that it had ever been +in his possession and bluff through the rest of the situation as best +he might. + +He threw the paper toward the flames with a nervous gesture of relief. +But for once his cunning failed--the throw was too hurried to be sure +and the light scrap of paper wavered and settled to the floor just +outside the fireplace. The Doctor swore noiselessly and stooped to +pick it up and make sure of its destruction. But he was not quick +enough. Through the window the detective had seen the incident, and +the next moment the Doctor heard his voice bark behind him. He turned, +and stared at the leveled muzzle of Anderson's revolver. + +"Hands up and stand back!" he commanded. + +As he did so Anderson picked up the paper and a sardonic smile +crossed his face as his eyes took in the significance of the print. +He laid his revolver down on the table where he could snatch it +up again at a moment's notice. + +"Behind a fireplace, eh?" he muttered. "What fireplace? In what +room?" + +"I won't tell you!" The Doctor's voice was sullen. He inched, +gingerly, cautiously, toward the other side of the table. + +"All right--I'll find it, you know." The detective's eyes turned +swiftly back to the blue-print. Experience should have taught him +never to underrate an adversary, even of the Doctor's caliber, but +long familiarity with danger can make the shrewdest careless. For +a moment, as he bent over the paper again, he was off guard. + +The Doctor seized the moment with a savage promptitude and sprang. +There followed a silent, furious struggle between the two. Under +normal circumstances Anderson would have been the stronger and +quicker, but the Doctor fought with an added strength of despair +and his initial leap had pinioned the detective's arms behind him. +Now the detective shook one hand free and snatched at the revolver +--in vain--for the Doctor, with a groan of desperation, struck at +his hand as its fingers were about to close on the smooth butt and +the revolver skidded from the table to the floor. With a sudden +terrible movement he pinioned both the detective's arms behind him +again and reached for the telephone. Its heavy base descended on +the back of the detective's head with stunning force. The next +moment the battle was ended and the Doctor, panting with exhaustion, +held the limp form of an unconscious man in his arms. + +He lowered the detective to the floor and straightened up again, +listening tensely. So brief and intense had been the struggle that +even now he could hardly believe in its reality. It seemed +impossible, too, that the struggle had not been heard. Then he +realized dully, as a louder roll of thunder smote on his ears, that +the elements themselves had played into his hand. The storm, with +its wind and fury, had returned just in time to save him and drown +out all sounds of conflict from the rest of the house with its giant +clamor. + +He bent swiftly over Anderson, listening to his heart. Good--the +man still breathed; he had enough on his conscience without adding +the murder of a detective to the black weight. Now he pocketed the +revolver and the blue-print--gagged Anderson rapidly with a knotted +handkerchief and proceeded to wrap his own muffler around the +detective's head as an additional silencer. Anderson gave a faint +sigh. + +The Doctor thought rapidly. Soon or late the detective would return +to consciousness--with his hands free he could easily tear out the +gag. He looked wildly about the room for a rope, a curtain--ah, he +had it--the detective's own handcuffs! He snapped the cuffs on +Anderson's wrists, then realized that, in his hurry, he had bound +the detective's hands in front of him instead of behind him. Well-- +it would do for the moment--he did not need much time to carry out +his plans. He dragged the limp body, its head lolling, into the +billiard room where he deposited it on the floor in the corner +farthest from the door. + +So far, so good--now to lock the door of the billiard room. +Fortunately, the key was there on the inside of the door. He quickly +transferred it, locked the billiard room door from the outside, and +pocketed the key. For a second he stood by the center table in the +living-room, recovering his breath and trying to straighten his +rumpled clothing. Then he crossed cautiously into the alcove and +started to pad up the alcove stairs, his face white and strained with +excitement and hope. + +And it was then that there happened one of the most dramatic events +of the night. One which was to remain, for the next hour or so, as +bewildering as the murder and which, had it come a few moments sooner +or a few moments later, would have entirely changed the course of +events. + +It was preceded by a desperate hammering on the door of the terrace. +It halted the Doctor on his way upstairs, drew Beresford on a run into +the living-room, and even reached the bedrooms of the women up above. + +"My God! What's that?" Beresford panted. + +The Doctor indicated the door. It was too late now. Already he +could hear Miss Cornelia's voice above; it was only a question of +a short time until Anderson in the billiard room revived and would +try to make his plight known. And in the brief moment of that +resumee of his position the knocking came again. But feebler, +as though the suppliant outside had exhausted his strength. + +As Beresford drew his revolver and moved to the door, Miss Cornelia +came in, followed by Lizzie. + +"It's the Bat," Lizzie announced mournfully. "Good-by, Miss Neily. +Good-by, everybody. I saw his hand, all covered with blood. He's +had a good night for sure!" + +But they ignored her. And Beresford flung open the door. + +Just what they had expected, what figure of horror or of fear they +waited for, no one can say. But there was no horror and no fear; +only unutterable amazement as an unknown man, in torn and muddied +garments, with a streak of dried blood seaming his forehead like a +scar, fell through the open doorway into Beresford's arms, + +"Good God!" muttered Beresford, dropping his revolver to catch the +strange burden. For a moment the Unknown lay in his arms like a +corpse. Then he straightened dizzily, staggered into the room, took +a few steps toward the table, and fell prostrate upon his face--at +the end of his strength. + +"Doctor!" gasped Miss Cornelia dazedly and the Doctor, whatever +guilt lay on his conscience, responded at once to the call of his +profession. + +He bent over the Unknown Man--the physician once more--and made +a brief examination. + +"He's fainted!" he said, rising. "Struck on the head, too." + +"But who is he?" faltered Miss Cornelia. + +"I never saw him before," said the Doctor. It was obvious that he +spoke the truth. "Does anyone recognize him?" + +All crowded about the Unknown, trying to read the riddle of his +identity. Miss Cornelia rapidly revised her first impressions of +the stranger. When he had first fallen through the doorway into +Beresford's arms she had not known what to think. Now, in the +brighter light of the living-room she saw that the still face, +beneath its mask of dirt and dried blood, was strong and fairly +youthful; if the man were a criminal, he belonged, like the Bat, to +the upper fringes of the world of crime. She noted mechanically +that his hands and feet had been tied, ends of frayed rope still +dangled from his wrists and ankles. And that terrible injury on +his head! She shuddered and closed her eyes. + +"Does anyone recognize him?" repeated the Doctor but one by one +the others shook their heads. Crook, casual tramp, or honest +laborer unexpectedly caught in the sinister toils of the +Cedarcrest affair--his identity seemed a mystery to one and all. + +"Is he badly hurt?" asked Miss Cornelia, shuddering again. + +"It's hard to say," answered the Doctor. "I think not." The +Unknown stirred feebly--made an effort to sit up. Beresford and +the Doctor caught him under the arms and helped him to his feet. +He stood there swaying, a blank expression on his face. + +"A chair!" said the Doctor quickly. "Ah--" He helped the +strange figure to sit down and bent over him again. + +"You're all right now, my friend," he said in his best tones of +professional cheeriness. "Dizzy a bit, aren't you?" + +The Unknown rubbed his wrists where his bonds had cut them. He +made an effort to speak. + +"Water!" he said in a low voice. + +The Doctor gestured to Billy. "Get some water--or whisky--if +there is any--that'd be better." + +"There's a flask of whisky in my room, Billy," added Miss Cornelia +helpfully. + +"Now, my man," continued the Doctor to the Unknown. "You're in the +hands of friends. Brace up and tell us what happened!" + +Beresford had been looking about for the detective, puzzled not to +find him, as usual, in charge of affairs. Now, "Where's Anderson? +This is a police matter!" he said, making a movement as if to go in +search of him. + +The Doctor stopped him quickly. + +"He was here a minute ago--he'll be back presently," he said, +praying to whatever gods he served that Anderson, bound and gagged +in the billiard room, had not yet returned to consciousness. + +Unobserved by all except Miss Cornelia, the mention of the +detective's name had caused a strange reaction in the Unknown. His +eyes had opened--he had started--the haze in his mind had seemed +to clear away for a moment. Then, for some reason, his shoulders +had slumped again and the look of apathy come back to his face. But, +stunned or not, it now seemed possible that he was not quite as +dazed as he appeared. + +The Doctor gave the slumped shoulders a little shake. + +"Rouse yourself, man!" he said. "What has happened to you?" + +"I'm dazed!" said the Unknown thickly and slowly. "I can't +remember." He passed a hand weakly over his forehead. + +"What a night!" sighed Miss Cornelia, sinking into a chair. +"Richard Fleming murdered in this house--and now--this!" + +The Unknown shot her a stealthy glance from beneath lowered eyelids. +But when she looked at him, his face was blank again. + +"Why doesn't somebody ask his name?" queried Dale, and, "Where the +devil is that detective?" muttered Beresford, almost in the same +instant. + +Neither question was answered, and Beresford, increasingly uneasy +at the continued absence of Anderson, turned toward the hall. + +The Doctor took Dale's suggestion. + +"What's your name?" + +Silence from the Unknown--and that blank stare of stupefaction. + +"Look at his papers." It was Miss Cornelia's voice. The Doctor +and Bailey searched the torn trouser pockets, the pockets of the +muddied shirt, while the Unknown submitted passively, not seeming +to care what happened to him. But search him as they would--it +was in vain. + +"Not a paper on him," said Jack Bailey at last, straightening up. + +A crash of breaking glass from the head of the alcove stairs put a +period to his sentence. All turned toward the stairs--or all +except the Unknown, who, for a moment, half-rose in his chair, his +eyes gleaming, his face alert, the mask of bewildered apathy gone +from his face. + +As they watched, a rigid little figure of horror backed slowly down +the alcove stairs and into the room--Billy, the Japanese, his +Oriental placidity disturbed at last, incomprehensible terror +written in every line of his face. + +"Billy!" + +"Billy--what is it?" + +The diminutive butler made a pitiful attempt at his usual grin. + +"It--nothing," he gasped. The Unknown relapsed in his chair-- +again the dazed stranger from nowhere. + +Beresford took the Japanese by the shoulders. + +"Now see here!" he said sharply. "You've seen something! What +was it!" + +Billy trembled like a leaf. + +"Ghost! Ghost!" he muttered frantically, his face working. + +"He's concealing something. Look at him!" Miss Cornelia stared at +her servant. + +"No, no!" insisted Billy in an ague of fright. "No, no!" + +But Miss Cornelia was sure of it. + +"Brooks, close that door!" she said, pointing at the terrace door +in the alcove which still stood ajar after the entrance of the +Unknown. + +Bailey moved to obey. But just as he reached the alcove the terrace +door slammed shut in his face. At the same moment every light in +Cedarcrest blinked and went out again. + +Bailey fumbled for the doorknob in the sudden darkness. + +"The door's locked!" he said incredulously. "The key's gone too. +Where's your revolver, Beresford?" + +"I dropped it in the alcove when I caught that man," called +Beresford, cursing himself for his carelessness. + +The illuminated dial of Bailey's wrist watch flickered in the darkness +as he searched for the revolver--as round, glowing spot of +phosphorescence. + +Lizzie screamed. "The eye! The gleaming eye I saw on the stairs!" +she shrieked, pointing at it frenziedly. + +"Quick--there's a candle on the table--light it somebody. Never +mind the revolver, I have one!" called Miss Cornelia. + +"Righto!" called Beresford cheerily in reply. He found the candle, +lit it-- + +The party blinked at each other for a moment, still unable quite to +co-ordinate their thoughts. + +Bailey rattled the knob of the door into the hall. + +"This door's locked, too!" he said with increasing puzzlement. A +gasp went over the group. They were locked in the room while some +devilment was going on in the rest of the house. That they knew. +But what it might be, what form it might take, they had not the +remotest idea. They were too distracted to notice the injured man, +now alert in his chair, or the Doctor's odd attitude of listening, +above the rattle and banging of the storm. + +But it was not until Miss Cornelia took the candle and proceeded +toward the hall door to examine it that the full horror of the +situation burst upon them. + +Neatly fastened to the white panel of the door, chest high and +hardly more than just dead, was the body of a bat. + +Of what happened thereafter no one afterward remembered the details. +To be shut in there at the mercy of one who knew no mercy was +intolerable. It was left for Miss Cornelia to remember her own +revolver, lying unnoticed on the table since the crime earlier in +the evening, and to suggest its use in shattering the lock. Just +what they had expected when the door was finally opened they did +not know. But the house was quiet and in order; no new horror faced +them in the hall; their candle revealed no bloody figure, their ears +heard no unearthly sound. + +Slowly they began to breathe normally once more. After that they +began to search the house. Since no room was apparently immune from +danger, the men made no protest when the women insisted on +accompanying them. And as time went on and chamber after chamber +was discovered empty and undisturbed, gradually the courage of the +party began to rise. Lizzie, still whimpering, stuck closely to +Miss Cornelia's heels, but that spirited lady began to make small +side excursions of her own. + +Of the men, only Bailey, Beresford, and the Doctor could really be +said to search at all. Billy had remained below, impassive of +face but rolling of eye; the Unknown, after an attempt to depart +with them, had sunk back weakly into his chair again, and the +detective, Anderson, was still unaccountably missing. + +While no one could be said to be grieving over this, still the +belief that somehow, somewhere, he had met the Bat and suffered at +his hands was strong in all of them except the Doctor. As each +door was opened they expected to find him, probably foully murdered; +as each door was closed again they breathed with relief. + +And as time went on and the silence and peace remained unbroken, the +conviction grew on them that the Bat had in this manner achieved his +object and departed; had done his work, signed it after his usual +fashion, and gone. + +And thus were matters when Miss Cornelia, happening on the attic +staircase with Lizzie at her heels, decided to look about her up +there. And went up. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +THE HIDDEN ROOM + +A few moments later Jack Bailey, seeing a thin glow of candlelight +from the attic above and hearing Lizzie's protesting voice, made +his way up there. He found them in the trunk room, a dusty, dingy +apartment lined with high closets along the walls--the floor +littered with an incongruous assortment of attic objects--two +battered trunks, a clothes hamper, an old sewing machine, a +broken-backed kitchen chair, two dilapidated suitcases and a shabby +satchel that might once have been a woman's dressing case--in one +corner a grimy fireplace in which, obviously, no fire had been +lighted for years. + +But he also found Miss Cornelia holding her candle to the floor and +staring at something there. + +"Candle grease!" she said sharply, staring at a line of white spots +by the window. She stooped and touched the spots with an +exploratory finger. + +"Fresh candle grease! Now who do you suppose did that? Do you +remember how Mr. Gillette, in Sherlock Holmes, when he--" + +Her voice trailed off. She stooped and followed the trail of the +candle grease away from the window, ingeniously trying to copy the +shrewd, piercing gaze of Mr. Gillette as she remembered him in his +most famous role. + +"It leads straight to the fireplace!" she murmured in tones of +Sherlockian gravity. Bailey repressed an involuntary smile. But +her next words gave him genuine food for thought. + +She stared at the mantel of the fireplace accusingly. "It's been +going through my mind for the last few minutes that no chimney flue +runs up this side of the house!" she said. + +Bailey stared. "Then why the fireplace?" + +"That's what I'm going to find out!" said the spinster grimly. She +started to rap the mantel, testing it for secret springs. + +"Jack! Jack!" It was Dale's voice, low and cautious, coming from +the landing of the stairs. + +Bailey stepped to the door of the trunk room. + +"Come in," he called in reply. "And shut the door behind you." + +Dale entered, turning the key in the lock behind her. + +"Where are the others?" + +"They're still searching the house. There's no sign of anybody." + +"They haven't found--Mr. Anderson?" + +Dale shook her head. "Not yet." + +She turned toward her aunt. Miss Cornelia had begun to enjoy +herself once more. + +Rapping on the mantelpiece, poking and pressing various corners and +sections of the mantel itself, she remembered all the detective +stories she had ever read and thought, with a sniff of scorn, that +she could better them. There were always sliding panels and hidden +drawers in detective stories and the detective discovered them by +rapping just as she was doing, and listening for a hollow sound in +answer. She rapped on the wall above the mantel--exactly--there +was the hollow echo she wanted. + +"Hollow as Lizzie's head!" she said triumphantly. The fireplace +was obviously not what it seemed, there must be a space behind it +unaccounted for in the building plans. Now what was the next step +detectives always took? Oh, yes--they looked for panels; panels +that moved. And when one shoved them away there was a button or +something. She pushed and pressed and finally something did move. +It was the mantelpiece itself, false grate and all, which began to +swing out into the room, revealing behind a dark, hollow cubbyhole, +some six feet by six--the Hidden Room at last! + +"Oh, Jack, be careful!" breathed Dale as her lover took Miss +Cornelia's candle and moved toward the dark hiding-place. But her +eyes had already caught the outlines of a tall iron safe in the +gloom and in spite of her fears, her lips formed a wordless cry of +victory. + +But Jack Bailey said nothing at all. One glance had shown him that +the safe was empty. + +The tragic collapse of all their hopes was almost more than they +could bear. Coming on top of the nerve-racking events of the night, +it left them dazed and directionless. It was, of course, Miss +Cornelia who recovered first. + +"Even without the money," she said; "the mere presence of this safe +here, hidden away, tells the story. The fact that someone else +knew and got here first cannot alter that." + +But she could not cheer them. It was Lizzie who created a diversion. +Lizzie who had bolted into the hall at the first motion of the +mantelpiece outward and who now, with equal precipitation, came +bolting back. She rushed into the room, slamming the door behind +her, and collapsed into a heap of moaning terror at her mistress's +feet. At first she was completely inarticulate, but after a time +she muttered that she had seen "him" and then fell to groaning again. + +The same thought was in all their minds, that in some corner of the +upper floor she had come across the body of Anderson. But when Miss +Cornelia finally quieted her and asked this, she shook her head. + +"It was the Bat I saw," was her astounding statement. "He dropped +through the skylight out there and ran along the hall. I saw him +I tell you. He went right by me!" + +"Nonsense," said Miss Cornelia briskly. "How can you say such a +thing?" + +But Bailey pushed forward and took Lizzie by the shoulder. + +"What did he look like?" + +"He hadn't any face. He was all black where his face ought to be." + +"Do you mean he wore a mask?" + +"Maybe. I don't know." + +She collapsed again but when Bailey, followed by Miss Cornelia, made +a move toward the door she broke into frantic wailing. + +"Don't go out there!" she shrieked. "He's there I tell you. I'm +not crazy. If you open that door, he'll shoot." + +But the door was already open and no shot came. With the departure +of Bailey and Miss Cornelia, and the resulting darkness due to their +taking the candle, Lizzie and Dale were left alone. The girl was +faint with disappointment and strain; she sat huddled on a trunk, +saying nothing, and after a moment or so Lizzie roused to her +condition. + +"Not feeling sick, are you?" she asked. + +"I feel a little queer." + +"Who wouldn't in the dark here with that monster loose somewhere near +by?" But she stirred herself and got up. "I'd better get the smelling +salts," she said heavily. "God knows I hate to move, but if there's +one place safer in this house than another, I've yet to find it." + +She went out, leaving Dale alone. The trunk room was dark, save +that now and then as the candle appeared and reappeared the doorway +was faintly outlined. On this outline she kept her eyes fixed, by +way of comfort, and thus passed the next few moments. She felt +weak and dizzy and entirely despairing. + +Then--the outline was not so clear. She had heard nothing but +there was something in the doorway. It stood there, formless, +diabolical, and then she saw what was happening. It was closing +the door. Afterward she was mercifully not to remember what came +next; the figure was perhaps intent on what was going on outside, +or her own movements may have been as silent as its own. That she +got into the mantel-room and even partially closed it behind her +is certain, and that her description of what followed is fairly +accurate is borne out by the facts as known. + +The Bat was working rapidly. She heard his quick, nervous movements; +apparently he had come back for something and secured it, for now +he moved again toward the door. But he was too late; they were +returning that way. She heard him mutter something and quickly turn +the key in the lock. Then he seemed to run toward the window, and +for some reason to recoil from it. + +The next instant she realized that he was coming toward the +mantel-room, that he intended to hide in it. There was no doubt in +her mind as to his identity. It was the Bat, and in a moment more +he would be shut in there with her. + +She tried to scream and could not, and the next instant, when the +Bat leaped into concealment beside her, she was in a dead faint on +the floor. + +Bailey meanwhile had crawled out on the roof and was carefully +searching it. But other things were happening also. A disinterested +observer could have seen very soon why the Bat had abandoned the +window as a means of egress. + +Almost before the mantel had swung to behind the archcriminal, +the top of a tall pruning ladder had appeared at the window and by +its quivering showed that someone was climbing up, rung by rung. +Unsuspiciously enough he came on, pausing at the top to flash a +light into the room, and then cautiously swinging a leg over the +sill. It was the Doctor. He gave a low whistle but there was no +reply, save that, had he seen it, the mantel swung out an inch or +two. Perhaps he was never so near death as at that moment but +that instant of irresolution on his part saved him, for by +coming into the room he had taken himself out of range. + +Even then he was very close to destruction, for after a brief pause +and a second rather puzzled survey of the room, he started toward +the mantel itself. Only the rattle of the doorknob stopped him, +and a call from outside. + +"Dale!" called Bailey's voice from the corridor. "Dale!" + +"Dale! Dale! The door's locked!" cried Miss Cornelia. + +The Doctor hesitated. The call came again. "Dale! Dale!" and +Bailey pounded on the door as if he meant to break it down. + +The Doctor made up his mind. + +"Wait a moment!" he called. He stepped to the door and unlocked it. +Bailey hurled himself into the room, followed by Miss Cornelia with +her candle. Lizzie stood in the doorway, timidly, ready to leap +for safety at a moment's notice. + +"Why did you lock that door?" said Bailey angrily, threatening the +Doctor. + +"But I didn't," said the latter, truthfully enough. Bailey made a +movement of irritation. Then a glance about the room informed him +of the amazing, the incredible fact. Dale was not there! She had +disappeared! + +"You--you," he stammered at the Doctor. "Where's Miss Ogden? What +have you done with her?" + +The Doctor was equally baffled. + +"Done with her?" he said indignantly. "I don't know what you're +talking about, I haven't seen her!" + +"Then you didn't lock that door?" Bailey menaced him. + +The Doctor's denial was firm. + +"Absolutely not. I was coming through the window when I heard your +voice at the door!" + +Bailey's eyes leaped to the window--yes--a ladder was there-- +the Doctor might be speaking the truth after all. But if so, how +and why had Dale disappeared? + +The Doctor's admission of his manner of entrance did not make +Lizzie any the happier. + +"In at the window--just like a bat!" she muttered in shaking +tones. She would not have stayed in the doorway if she had not +been afraid to move anywhere else. + +"I saw lights up here from outside," continued the Doctor easily. +"And I thought--" + +Miss Cornelia interrupted him. She had set down her candle and +laid the revolver on the top of the clothes hamper and now stood +gazing at the mantel-fireplace. + +"The mantel's--closed!" she said. + +The Doctor stared. So the secret of the Hidden Room was a secret +no longer. He saw ruin gaping before him--a bottomless abyss. +"Damnation!" he cursed impotently under his breath. + +Bailey turned on him savagely. + +"Did you shut that mantel?" + +"No!" + +"I'll see whether you shut it or not!" Bailey leaped toward the +fireplace. "Dale! Dale!" he called desperately, leaning against +the mantel. His fingers groped for the knob that worked the +mechanism of the hidden entrance. + +The Doctor picked up the single lighted candle from the hamper, as +if to throw more light on Bailey's task. Bailey's fingers found +the knob. He turned it. The mantel began to swing out into the +room. + +As it did so the Doctor deliberately snuffed out the light of the +candle he held, leaving the room in abrupt and obliterating darkness. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +ANDERSON MAKES AN ARREST + +"Doctor, why did you put out that candle?" Miss Cornelia's voice +cut the blackness like a knife. + +"I didn't--I--" + +"You did--I saw you do it." + +The brief exchange of accusation and denial took but an instant of +time, as the mantel swung wide open. The next instant there was a +rush of feet across the floor, from the fireplace--the shock of a +collision between two bodies--the sound of a heavy fall. + +"What was that?" queried Bailey dazedly, with a feeling as if some +great winged creature had brushed at him and passed. + +Lizzie answered from the doorway. + +"Oh, oh!" she groaned in stricken accents. "Somebody knocked me +down and tramped on me!" + +"Matches, quick!" commanded Miss Cornelia. "Where's the candle?" + +The Doctor was still trying to explain his curious action of a +moment before. + +"Awfully sorry, I assure you--it dropped out of the holder--ah, +here it is!" + +He held it up triumphantly. Bailey struck a match and lighted it. +The wavering little flame showed Lizzie prostrate but vocal, in +the doorway--and Dale lying on the floor of the Hidden Room, her +eyes shut, and her face as drained of color as the face of a marble +statue. For one horrible instant Bailey thought she must be dead. + +He rushed to her wildly and picked her up in his arms. No--still +breathing--thank God! He carried her tenderly to the only chair +in the room. + +"Doctor!" + +The Doctor, once more the physician, knelt at her side and felt for +her pulse. And Lizzie, picking herself up from where the collision +with some violent body had thrown her, retrieved the smelling salts +from the floor. It was onto this picture, the candlelight shining +on strained faces, the dramatic figure of Dale, now semi-conscious, +the desperate rage of Bailey, that a new actor appeared on the scene. + +Anderson, the detective, stood in the doorway, holding a candle--as +grim and menacing a figure as a man just arisen from the dead. + +"That's right!" said Lizzie, unappalled for once. "Come in when +everything's over!" + +The Doctor glanced up and met the detective's eyes, cold and menacing. + +"You took my revolver from me downstairs," he said. "I'll trouble +you for it." + +The Doctor got heavily to his feet. The others, their suspicions +confirmed at last, looked at him with startled eyes. The detective +seemed to enjoy the universal confusion his words had brought. + +Slowly, with sullen reluctance, the Doctor yielded up the stolen +weapon. The detective examined it casually and replaced it in his +hip pocket. + +"I've something to settle with you pretty soon," he said through +clenched teeth, addressing the Doctor. "And I'll settle it +properly. Now--what's this?" + +He indicated Dale--her face still and waxen--her breath coming so +faintly she seemed hardly to breathe at all as Miss Cornelia and +Bailey tried to revive her. + +"She's coming to--" said Miss Cornelia triumphantly, as a first +faint flush of color reappeared in the girl's cheeks. "We found +her shut in there, Mr. Anderson," the spinster added, pointing +toward the gaping entrance of the Hidden Room. + +A gleam crossed the detective's face. He went up to examine the +secret chamber. As he did so, Doctor Wells, who had been inching +surreptitiously toward the door, sought the opportunity of slipping +out unobserved. + +But Anderson was not to be caught napping again. "Wells!" he barked. +The Doctor stopped and turned. + +"Where were you when she was locked in this room?" + +The Doctor's eyes sought the floor--the walls--wildly--for any +possible loophole of escape. + +"I didn't shut her in if that's what you mean!" he said defiantly. +"There was someone shut in there with her!" He gestured at the +Hidden Room. "Ask these people here." + +Miss Cornelia caught him up at once. + +"The fact remains, Doctor," she said, her voice cold with anger, +"that we left her here alone. When we came back you were here. +The corridor door was locked, and she was in that room-- +unconscious!" + +She moved forward to throw the light of her candle on the Hidden +Room as the detective passed into it, gave it a swift professional +glance, and stepped out again. But she had not finished her story +by any means. + +"As we opened that door," she continued to the detective, tapping +the false mantel, "the Doctor deliberately extinguished our only +candle!" + +"Do you know who was in that room?" queried the detective fiercely, +wheeling on the Doctor. + +But the latter had evidently made up his mind to cling stubbornly +to a policy of complete denial. + +"No," he said sullenly. "I didn't put out the candle. +It fell. And I didn't lock that door into the hall. I +found it locked!" + +A sigh of relief from Bailey now centered everyone's attention on +himself and Dale. At last the girl was recovering from the shock +of her terrible experience and regaining consciousness. Her +eyelids fluttered, closed again, opened once more. She tried to +sit up, weakly, clinging to Bailey's shoulder. The color returned +to her cheeks, the stupor left her eyes. + +She gave the Hidden Room a hunted little glance and then shuddered +violently. + +"Please close that awful door," she said in a tremulous voice. "I +don't want to see it again." + +The detective went silently to close the iron doors. "What happened +to you? Can't you remember?" faltered Bailey, on his knees at her side. + +The shadow of an old terror lay on the girl's face, "I was in here +alone in the dark," she began slowly--"Then, as I looked at the +doorway there, I saw there was somebody there. He came in and +closed the door. I didn't know what to do, so I slipped in--there, +and after a while I knew he was coming in too, for he couldn't get +out. Then I must have fainted." + +"There was nothing about the figure that you recognized?" + +"No. Nothing." + +"But we know it was the Bat," put in Miss Cornelia. The detective +laughed sardonically. The old duel of opposing theories between the +two seemed about to recommence. + +"Still harping on the Bat!" he said, with a little sneer, Miss +Cornelia stuck to her guns. + +"I have every reason to believe that the Bat is in this house," +she said. + +The detective gave another jarring, mirthless laugh. "And that he +took the Union Bank money out of the safe, I suppose?" he jeered. +"No, Miss Van Gorder." + +He wheeled on the Doctor now. + +"Ask the Doctor who took the Union Bank money out of that safe!" he +thundered. "Ask the Doctor who attacked me downstairs in the +living-room, knocked me senseless, and locked me in the billiard +room!" + +There was an astounded silence. The detective added a parting shot +to his indictment of the Doctor. + +"The next time you put handcuffs on a man be sure to take the key +out of his vest pocket," he said, biting off the words. + +Rage and consternation mingled on the Doctor's countenance--on the +faces of the others astonishment was followed by a growing certainty. +Only Miss Cornelia clung stubbornly to her original theory. + +"Perhaps I'm an obstinate old woman," she said in tones which +obviously showed that if so she was rather proud of it, "but the +Doctor and all the rest of us were locked in the living-room not +ten minutes ago!" + +"By the Bat, I suppose!" mocked Anderson. + +"By the Bat!" insisted Miss Cornelia inflexibly. "Who else would +have fastened a dead bat to the door downstairs? Who else would +have the bravado to do that? Or what you call the imagination?" + +In spite of himself Anderson seemed to be impressed. + +"The Bat, eh?" he muttered, then, changing his tone, "You knew +about this hidden room, Wells?" he shot at the Doctor. + +"Yes." The Doctor bowed his head. + +"And you knew the money was in the room?" + +"Well, I was wrong, wasn't I?" parried the Doctor. "You can look +for yourself. That safe is empty." + +The detective brushed his evasive answer aside. + +"You were up in this room earlier tonight," he said in tones of +apparent certainty. + +"No, I couldn't get up!" the Doctor still insisted, with strange +violence for a man who had already admitted such damning knowledge. + +The detective's face was a study in disbelief. + +"You know where that money is, Wells, and I'm going to find it!" + +This last taunt seemed to goad the Doctor beyond endurance. + +"Good God!" he shouted recklessly. "Do you suppose if I knew +where it is, I'd be here? I've had plenty of chances to get away! +No, you can't pin anything on me, Anderson! It isn't criminal to +have known that room is here." + +He paused, trembling with anger and, curiously enough, with an +anger that seemed at least half sincere. + +"Oh, don't be so damned virtuous!" said the detective brutally. +"Maybe you haven't been upstairs but--unless I miss my guess, you +know who was!" + +The Doctor's face changed a little. + +"What about Richard Fleming?" persisted the detective scornfully. + +The Doctor drew himself up. + +"I never killed him!" he said so impressively that even Bailey's +faith in his guilt was shaken. "I don't even own a revolver!" + +The detective alone maintained his attitude unchanged. + +"You come with me, Wells," he ordered, with a jerk of his thumb +toward the door. "This time I'll do the locking up." + +The Doctor, head bowed, prepared to obey. The detective took up +a candle to light their path. Then he turned to the others for +a moment. + +"Better get the young lady to bed," he said with a gruff +kindliness of manner. "I think that I can promise you a quiet +night from now on." + +"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Anderson!" Miss Cornelia insisted on +the last word. The detective ignored the satiric twist of her +speech, motioned the Doctor out ahead of him, and followed. The +faint glow of his candle flickered a moment and vanished toward the +stairs. + +It was Bailey who broke the silence. + +"I can believe a good bit about Wells," he said, "but not that he +stood on that staircase and killed Dick Fleming." + +Miss Cornelia roused from deep thought. + +"Of course not," she said briskly. "Go down and fix Miss Dale's +bed, Lizzie. And then bring up some wine." + +"Down there, where the Bat is?" Lizzie demanded. + +"The Bat has gone." + +"Don't you believe it. He's just got his hand in!" + +But at last Lizzie went, and, closing the door behind her, Miss +Cornelia proceeded more or less to think, out loud. + +"Suppose," she said, "that the Bat, or whoever it was shut in there +with you, killed Richard Fleming. Say that he is the one Lizzie +saw coming in by the terrace door. Then he knew where the money +was for he went directly up the stairs. But that is two hours ago +or more. Why didn't he get the money, if it was here, and get away?" + +"He may have had trouble with the combination." + +"Perhaps. Anyhow, he was on the small staircase when Dick Fleming +started up, and of course he shot him. That's clear enough. Then +he finally got the safe open, after locking us in below, and my +coming up interrupted him. How on earth did he get out on the +roof?" + +Bailey glanced out the window. + +"It would be possible from here. Possible, but not easy." + +"But, if he could do that," she persisted, "he could have got away, +too. There are trellises and porches. Instead of that he came +back here to this room." She stared at the window. "Could a man +have done that with one hand?" + +"Never in the world." + +Saying nothing, but deeply thoughtful, Miss Cornelia made a fresh +progress around the room. + +"I know very little about bank-currency," she said finally. "Could +such a sum as was looted from the Union Bank be carried away in a +man's pocket?" + +Bailey considered the question. + +"Even in bills of large denomination it would make a pretty sizeable +bundle," he said. + +But that Miss Cornelia's deductions were correct, whatever they +were, was in question when Lizzie returned with the elderberry wine. +Apparently Miss Cornelia was to be like the man who repaired the +clock: she still had certain things left over. + +For Lizzie announced that the Unknown was ranging the second floor +hall. From the time they had escaped from the living-room this man +had not been seen or thought of, but that he was a part of the +mystery there could be no doubt. It flashed over Miss Cornelia +that, although he could not possibly have locked them in, in the +darkness that followed he could easily have fastened the bat to +the door. For the first time it occurred to her that the +archcriminal might not be working alone, and that the entrance of +the Unknown might have been a carefully devised ruse to draw them +all together and hold them there. + +Nor was Beresford's arrival with the statement that the Unknown +was moving through the house below particularly comforting. + +"He may be dazed, or he may not," he said. "Personally, this is +not a time to trust anybody." + +Beresford knew nothing of what had just occurred, and now seeing +Bailey he favored him with an ugly glance. + +"In the absence of Anderson, Bailey," he added, "I don't propose +to trust you too far. I'm making it my business from now on to +see that you don't try to get away. Get that?" + +But Bailey heard him without particular resentment. + +"All right," he said. "But I'll tell you this. Anderson is here +and has arrested the Doctor. Keep your eye on me, if you think +it's your duty, but don't talk to me as if I were a criminal. You +don't know that yet." + +"The Doctor!" Beresford gasped. + +But Miss Cornelia's keen ears had heard a sound outside and her +eyes were focused on the door. + +"That doorknob is moving," she said in a hushed voice. + +Beresford moved to the door and jerked it violently open. + +The butler, Billy, almost pitched into the room. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +THE BAT STILL FLIES + +He stepped back in the doorway, looked out, then turned to them +again. + +"I come in, please?" he said pathetically, his hands quivering. +"I not like to stay in dark." + +Miss Cornelia took pity on him. + +"Come in, Billy, of course. What is it? Anything the matter?" + +Billy glanced about nervously. + +"Man with sore head." + +"What about him?" + +"Act very strange." Again Billy's slim hands trembled. + +Beresford broke in. "The man who fell into the room downstairs?" + +Billy nodded. + +"Yes. On second floor, walking around." + +Beresford smiled, a bit smugly. + +"I told you!" he said to Miss Cornelia. "I didn't think he was as +dazed as he pretended to be." + +Miss Cornelia, too, had been pondering the problem of the Unknown. +She reached a swift decision. If he were what he pretended to be-- +a dazed wanderer, he could do them no harm. If he were not--a +little strategy properly employed might unravel the whole mystery. + +"Bring him up here, Billy," she said, turning to the butler. + +Billy started to obey. But the darkness of the corridor seemed to +appall him anew the moment he took a step toward it. + +"You give candle, please?" he asked with a pleading expression. +"Don't like dark." + +Miss Cornelia handed him one of the two precious candles. Then +his present terror reminded her of that one other occasion when +she had seen him lose completely his stoic Oriental calm. + +"Billy," she queried, "what did you see when you came running down +the stairs before we were locked in, down below?" + +The candle shook like a reed in Billy's grasp. + +"Nothing!" he gasped with obvious untruth, though it did not seem +so much as if he wished to conceal what he had seen as that he was +trying to convince himself he had seen nothing. + +"Nothing!" said Lizzie scornfully. "It was some nothing that would +make him drop a bottle of whisky!" + +But Billy only backed toward the door, smiling apologetically. + +"Thought I saw ghost," he said, and went out and down the stairs, +the candlelight flickering, growing fainter, and finally +disappearing. Silence and eerie darkness enveloped them all as +they waited. And suddenly out of the blackness came a sound. + +Something was flapping and thumping around the room. + +"That's damned odd." muttered Beresford uneasily. "There is +something moving around the room." + +"It's up near the ceiling!" cried Bailey as the sound began again. + +Lizzie began a slow wail of doom and disaster. + +"Oh--h--h--h--" + +"Good God!" cried Beresford abruptly. "It hit me in the face!" He +slapped his hands together in a vain attempt to capture the flying +intruder. + +Lizzie rose. + +"I'm going!" she announced. "I don't know where, but I'm going!" + +She took a wild step in the direction of the door. Then the +flapping noise was all about her, her nose was bumped by an +invisible object and she gave a horrified shriek. + +"It's in my hair!" she screamed madly. "It's in my hair!" + +The next instant Bailey gave a triumphant cry. + +"I've got it! It's a bat!" + +Lizzie sank to her knees, still moaning, and Bailey carried the +cause of the trouble over to the window and threw it out. + +But the result of the absurd incident was a further destruction of +their morale. Even Beresford, so far calm with the quiet of the +virtuous onlooker, was now pallid in the light of the matches they +successively lighted. And onto this strained situation came at +last Billy and the Unknown. + +The Unknown still wore his air of dazed bewilderment, true or +feigned, but at least he was now able to walk without support. +They stared at him, at his tattered, muddy garments, at the threads +of rope still clinging to his ankles--and wondered. He returned +their stares vacantly. + +"Come in," began Miss Cornelia. "Sit down." He obeyed both +commands docilely enough. + +"Are you better now?" + +"Somewhat." His words still came very slowly. + +"Billy--you can go." + +"I stay, please!" said Billy wistfully, making no movement to leave. +His gesture toward the darkness of the corridor spoke louder than +words. + +Bailey watched him, suspicion dawning in his eyes. He could not +account for the butler's inexplicable terror of being left alone. + +"Anderson intimated that the Doctor had an accomplice in this house," +he said, crossing to Billy and taking him by the arm. "Why isn't +this the man?" Billy cringed away. "Please, no," he begged pitifully. + +Bailey turned him around so that he faced the Hidden Room. + +"Did you know that room was there?" he questioned, his doubts still +unquieted. + +Billy shook his head. + +"No." + +"He couldn't have locked us in," said Miss Cornelia. "He was with +us." + +Bailey demurred, not to her remark itself, but to its implication +of Billy's entire innocence. + +"He may know who did it. Do you?" + +Billy still shook his head. + +Bailey remained unconvinced. + +"Who did you see at the head of the small staircase?" he queried +imperatively. "Now we're through with nonsense; I want the truth!" + +Billy shivered. + +"See face--that's all," he brought out at last. + +"Whose face?" + +Again it was evident that Billy knew or thought he knew more than +he was willing to tell. + +"Don't know," he said with obvious untruth, looking down at the +floor. + +"Never mind, Billy," cut in Miss Cornelia. To her mind questioning +Billy was wasting time. She looked at the Unknown. + +"Solve the mystery of this man and we may get at the facts," she +said in accents of conviction. + +As Bailey turned toward her questioningly, Billy attempted to steal +silently out of the door, apparently preferring any fears that might +lurk in the darkness of the corridor to a further grilling on the +subject of whom or what he had seen on the alcove stairs. But +Bailey caught the movement out of the tail of his eye. + +"You stay here," he commanded. Billy stood frozen. Beresford +raised the candle so that it cast its light full in the Unknown's +face. + +"This chap claims to have lost his memory," he said dubiously. "I +suppose a blow on the head might do that, I don't know." + +"I wish somebody would knock me on the head! I'd like to forget a +few things!" moaned Lizzie, but the interruption went unregarded. + +"Don't you even know your name?" queried Miss Cornelia of the Unknown. + +The Unknown shook his head with a slow, laborious gesture. + +"Not--yet." + +"Or where you came from?" + +Once more the battered head made its movement of negation. + +"Do you remember how you got in this house?" The Unknown made an +effort. + +"Yes--I--remember--that--all--right" he said, apparently +undergoing an enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all. +He put his hand to his head. + +"My--head--aches--to--beat--the--band," he continued slowly. + +Miss Cornelia was at a loss. If this were acting, it was at least +fine acting. + +"How did you happen to come to this house?" she persisted, her voice +unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the +Unknown. + +"Saw--the--lights." + +Bailey broke in with a question. + +"Where were you when you saw the lights?" + +The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully. + +"I--broke--out--of--the--garage," he said at length. This was +unexpected. A general movement of interest ran over the group. + +"How did you get there?" Beresford took his turn as questioner. + +The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss +Cornelia's fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries. + +"I--don't--know." + +"Have you been robbed?" queried Bailey with keen suspicion. + +The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible. Then he seemed to +get command of his tongue again. + +"Everything gone--out of--my pockets," he said. + +"Including your watch?" pursued Bailey, remembering the watch that +Beresford had found in the grounds. + +The Unknown would neither affirm nor deny. + +"If--I--had--a--watch--it's gone," he said with maddening +deliberation. "All my--papers--are gone." + +Miss Cornelia pounced upon this last statement like a cat upon a +mouse. + +"How do you know you had papers?" she asked sharply. + +For the first time the faintest flicker of a smile seemed to appear +for a moment on the Unknown's features. Then it vanished as +abruptly as it had come. + +"Most men--carry papers--don't they?" he asked, staring blindly +in front of him. "I'm dazed--but--my mind's--all--right. If +you--ask me--I--think--I'm--d-damned funny!" + +He gave the ghost of a chuckle. Bailey and Beresford exchanged +glances. + +"Did you ring the house phone?" insisted Miss Cornelia. + +The Unknown nodded. + +"Yes." + +Miss Cornelia and Bailey gave each other a look of wonderment. + +"I--leaned against--the button--in the garage--" he went on. +"Then--I think--maybe I--fainted. That's--not clear." + +His eyelids drooped. He seemed about to faint again. + +Dale rose, and came over to him, with a sympathetic movement of her +hand. + +"You don't remember how you were hurt?" she asked gently. + +The Unknown stared ahead of him, his eyes filming, as if he were +trying to puzzle it out. + +"No," he said at last. "The first thing I remember--I was in the +garage--tied." He moved his lips. "I was--gagged--too--that's +--what's the matter--with my tongue--now--Then--I got myself +--free--and--got out--of a window--" + +Miss Cornelia made a movement to question him further. Beresford +stopped her with his hand uplifted. + +"Just a moment, Miss Van Gorder. Anderson ought to know of this." + +He started for the door without perceiving the flash of keen +intelligence and alertness that had lit the Unknown's countenance +for an instant, as once before, at the mention of the detective's +name. But just as he reached the door the detective entered. + +He halted for a moment, staring at the strange figure of the Unknown. + +"A new element in our mystery, Mr. Anderson," said Miss Cornelia, +remembering that the detective might not have heard of the mysterious +stranger before--as he had been locked in the billiard room when the +latter had made his queer entrance. + +The detective and the Unknown gazed at each other for a moment--the +Unknown with his old expression of vacant stupidity. + +"Quite dazed, poor fellow," Miss Cornelia went on. Beresford added +other words of explanation. + +"He doesn't remember what happened to him. Curious, isn't it?" + +The detective still seemed puzzled. + +"How did he get into the house?" + +"He came through the terrace door some time ago," answered Miss +Cornelia. "Just before we were locked in." + +Her answer seemed to solve the problem to Anderson's satisfaction. + +"Doesn't remember anything, eh?" he said dryly. He crossed over to +the mysterious stranger and put his hand under the Unknown's chin, +jerking his head up roughly. + +"Look up here!" he commanded. + +The Unknown stared at him for an instant with blank, vacuous eyes. +Then his head dropped back upon his breast again. + +"Look up, you--" muttered the detective, jerking his head again. +"This losing your memory stuff doesn't go down with me!" His eyes +bored into the Unknown's. + +"It doesn't--go down--very well--with me--either," said the +Unknown weakly, making no movement of protest against Anderson's +rough handling. + +"Did you ever see me before?" demanded the latter. Beresford held +the candle closer so that he might watch the Unknown's face for any +involuntary movement of betrayal. + +But the Unknown made no such movement. He gazed at Anderson, +apparently with the greatest bewilderment, then his eyes cleared, +he seemed to be about to remember who the detective was. + +"You're--the--Doctor--I--saw--downstairs--aren't you?" he +said innocently. The detective set his jaw. He started off on a +new tack. + +"Does this belong to you?" he said suddenly, plucking from his +pocket the battered gold watch that Beresford had found and waving +it before the Unknown's blank face. + +The Unknown stared at it a moment, as a child might stare at a new +toy, with no gleam of recognition. Then-- + +"Maybe," he admitted. "I--don't--know." His voice trailed off. +He fell back against Bailey's arm. + +Miss Cornelia gave a little shiver. The third degree in reality +was less pleasant to watch than it had been to read about in the +pages of her favorite detective stories. + +"He's evidently been attacked," she said, turning to Anderson. +"He claims to have recovered consciousness in the garage, where +he was tied hand and foot!" + +"He does, eh?" said the detective heavily. He glared at the +Unknown. "If you'll give me five minutes alone with him, I'll get +the truth out of him!" he promised. + +A look of swift alarm swept over the Unknown's face at the words, +unperceived by any except Miss Cornelia. The others started +obediently to yield to the detective's behest and leave him alone +with his prisoner. Miss Cornelia was the first to move toward the +door. On her way, she turned. + +"Do you believe that money is irrevocably gone?" she asked of +Anderson. + +The detective smiled. + +"There's no such word as 'irrevocable' in my vocabulary," he +answered. "But I believe it's out of the house, if that's what +you mean." + +Miss Cornelia still hesitated, on the verge of departure. + +"Suppose I tell you that there are certain facts that you have +overlooked?" she said slowly. + +"Still on the trail!" muttered the detective sardonically. He did +not even glance at her. He seemed only anxious that the other +members of the group would get out of his way for once and leave +him a clear field for his work. + +"I was right about the Doctor, wasn't I?" she insisted. + +"Just fifty per cent right," said Anderson crushingly. "And the +Doctor didn't turn that trick alone. Now--" he went on with +weary patience, "if you'll all go out and close that door--" + +Miss Cornelia, defeated, took a candle from Bailey +and stepped into the corridor. Her figure stiffened. She +gave an audible gasp of dismayed surprise. + +"Quick!" she cried, turning back to the others and gesturing toward +the corridor. "A man just went through that skylight and out onto +the roof!" + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +MURDER ON MURDER + +"Out on the roof!" + +"Come on, Beresford!" + +"Hustle--you men! He may be armed!" + +"Righto--coming!" + +And following Miss Cornelia's lead, Jack Bailey, Anderson, Beresford, +and Billy dashed out into the corridor, leaving Dale and the +frightened Lizzie alone with the Unknown. + +"And I'd run if my legs would!" Lizzie despaired. + +"Hush!" said Dale, her ears strained for sounds of conflict. Lizzie, +creeping closer to her for comfort, stumbled over one of the Unknown's +feet and promptly set up a new wail. + +"How do we know this fellow right here isn't the Bat?" she asked in +a blood-chilling whisper, nearly stabbing the unfortunate Unknown in +the eye with her thumb as she pointed at him. The Unknown was +either too dazed or too crafty to make any answer. His silence +confirmed Lizzie's worst suspicions. She fairly hugged the floor +and began to pray in a whisper. + +Miss Cornelia re-entered cautiously with her candle, closing the +door gently behind her as she came. + +"What did you see?" gasped Dale. + +Miss Cornelia smiled broadly. + +"I didn't see anything," she admitted with the greatest calm. "I +had to get that dratted detective out of the room before I +assassinated him." + +"Nobody went through the skylight?" said Dale incredulously. + +"They have now," answered Miss Cornelia with obvious satisfaction. +"The whole outfit of them." + +She stole a glance at the veiled eyes of the Unknown. He was lying +limply back in his chair, as if the excitement had been too much +for him--and yet she could have sworn she had seen him leap to his +feet, like a man in full possession of his faculties, when she had +given her false cry of alarm. + +"Then why did you--" began Dale dazedly, unable to fathom her +aunt's reasons for her trick. + +"Because," interrupted Miss Cornelia decidedly, "that money's in +this room. If the man who took it out of the safe got away with +it, why did he come back and hide there?" + +Her forefinger jabbed at the hidden chamber wherein the masked +intruder had terrified Dale with threats of instant death. + +"He got it out of the safe--and that's as far as he did get with +it," she persisted inexorably. "There's a HAT behind that safe, a +man's felt hat!" + +So this was the discovery she had hinted of to Anderson before he +rebuffed her proffer of assistance! + +"Oh, I wish he'd take his hat and go home!" groaned Lizzie +inattentive to all but her own fears. + +Miss Cornelia did not even bother to rebuke her. She crossed behind +the wicker clothes hamper and picked up something from the floor. + +"A half-burned candle," she mused. "Another thing the detective +overlooked." + +She stepped back to the center of the room, looking knowingly from +the candle to the Hidden Room and back again. + +"Oh, my God--another one!" shrieked Lizzie as the dark shape of a +man appeared suddenly outside the window, as if materialized from +the air. + +Miss Cornelia snatched up her revolver from the top of the hamper. + +"Don't shoot--it's Jack!" came a warning cry from Dale as she +recognized the figure of her lover. + +Miss Cornelia laid her revolver down on the hamper again. The +vacant eyes of the Unknown caught the movement. + +Bailey swung in through the window, panting a little from his +exertions. + +"The man Lizzie saw drop from the skylight undoubtedly got to the +roof from this window," he said. "It's quite easy." + +"But not with one hand," said Miss Cornelia, with her gaze now +directed at the row of tall closets around the walls of the room. +"When that detective comes back I may have a surprise party for him," +she muttered, with a gleam of hope in her eye. + +Dale explained the situation to Jack. + +"Aunt Cornelia thinks the money's still here." + +Miss Cornelia snorted. + +"I know it's here." She started to open the closets, one after the +other, beginning at the left. Bailey saw what she was doing and +began to help her. + +Not so Lizzie. She sat on the floor in a heap, her eyes riveted on +the Unknown, who in his turn was gazing at Miss Cornelia's revolver +on the hamper with the intent stare of a baby or an idiot fascinated +by a glittering piece of glass. + +Dale noticed the curious tableau. + +"Lizzie--what are you looking at?" she said with a nervous shake in +her voice. + +"What's he looking at?" asked Lizzie sepulchrally, pointing at the +Unknown. Her pointed forefinger drew his eyes away from the +revolver; he sank back into his former apathy, listless, drooping. + +Miss Cornelia rattled the knob of a high closet by the other wall. + +"This one is locked--and the key's gone," she announced. A new +flicker of interest grew in the eyes of the Unknown. Lizzie glanced +away from him, terrified. + +"If there's anything locked up in that closet," she whimpered, "you'd +better let it stay! There's enough running loose in this house as +it is!" + +Unfortunately for her, her whimper drew Miss Cornelia's attention +upon her. + +"Lizzie, did you ever take that key?" the latter queried sternly. + +"No'm," said Lizzie, too scared to dissimulate if she had wished. +She wagged her head violently a dozen times, like a china figure +on a mantelpiece. + +Miss Cornelia pondered. + +"It may be locked from the inside; I'll soon find out." She took +a wire hairpin from her hair and pushed it through the keyhole. +But there was no key on the other side; the hairpin went through +without obstruction. Repeated efforts to jerk the door open failed. +And finally Miss Cornelia bethought herself of a key from the other +closet doors. + +Dale and Lizzie on one side--Bailey on the other--collected the +keys of the other closets from their locks while Miss Cornelia +stared at the one whose doors were closed as if she would force +its secret from it with her eyes. The Unknown had been so quiet +during the last few minutes, that, unconsciously, the others had +ceased to pay much attention to him, except the casual attention +one devotes to a piece of furniture. Even Lizzie's eyes were now +fixed on the locked closet. And the Unknown himself was the first +to notice this. + +At once his expression altered to one of cunning--cautiously, with +infinite patience, he began to inch his chair over toward the wicker +clothes hamper. The noise of the others, moving about the room, +drowned out what little he made in moving his chair. + +At last he was within reach of the revolver. His hand shot out in +one swift sinuous thrust--clutched the weapon--withdrew. He then +concealed the revolver among his tattered garments as best he could +and, cautiously as before, inched his chair back again to its +original position. When the others noticed him again, the mask of +lifelessness was back on his face and one could have sworn he had +not changed his position by the breadth of an inch. + +"There--that unlocked it!" cried Miss Cornelia triumphantly at last, +as the key to one of the other closet doors slid smoothly into the +lock and she heard the click that meant victory. + +She was about to throw open the closet door. But Bailey motioned +her back. + +"I'd keep back a little," he cautioned. "You don't know what may +be inside." + +"Mercy sakes, who wants to know?" shivered Lizzie. Dale and Miss +Cornelia, too, stepped aside involuntarily as Bailey took the candle +and prepared, with a good deal of caution, to open the closet door. + +The door swung open at last. He could look in. He did so--and +stared appalled at what he saw, while goose flesh crawled on his +spine and the hairs of his head stood up. + +After a moment he closed the door of the closet and turned back, +white-faced, to the others. + +"What is it?" said Dale aghast. "What did you see?" + +Bailey found himself unable to answer for a moment. Then he pulled +himself together. He turned to Miss Van Gorder. + +"Miss Cornelia, I think we have found the ghost the Jap butler saw," +he said slowly. "How are your nerves?" + +Miss Cornelia extended a hand that did not tremble. + +"Give me the candle." + +He did so. She went to the closet and opened the door. + +Whatever faults Miss Cornelia may have had, lack of courage was not +one of them--or the ability to withstand a stunning mental shock. +Had it been otherwise she might well have crumpled to the floor, as +if struck down by an invisible hammer, the moment the closet door +swung open before her. + +Huddled on the floor of the closet was the body of a man. So +crudely had he been crammed into this hiding-place that he lay +twisted and bent. And as if to add to the horror of the moment one +arm, released from its confinement, now slipped and slid out into +the floor of the room. + +Miss Cornelia's voice sounded strange to her own ears when finally +she spoke. + +"But who is it?" + +"It is--or was--Courtleigh Fleming," said Bailey dully. + +"But how can it be? Mr. Fleming died two weeks ago. I--" + +"He died in this house sometime tonight. The body is still warm." + +"But who killed him? The Bat?" + +"Isn't it likely that the Doctor did it? The man who has been his +accomplice all along? Who probably bought a cadaver out West and +buried it with honors here not long ago?" + +He spoke without bitterness. Whatever resentment he might have felt +died in that awful presence. + +"He got into the house early tonight," he said, "probably with the +Doctor's connivance. That wrist watch there is probably the +luminous eye Lizzie thought she saw." + +But Miss Cornelia's face was still thoughtful, and he went on: + +"Isn't it clear, Miss Van Gorder?" he queried, with a smile. "The +Doctor and old Mr. Fleming formed a conspiracy--both needed money-- +lots of it. Fleming was to rob the bank and hide the money here. +Wells's part was to issue a false death certificate in the West, and +bury a substitute body, secured God knows how. It was easy; it kept +the name of the president of the Union Bank free from suspicion-- +and it put the blame on me." + +He paused, thinking it out. + +"Only they slipped up in one place. Dick Fleming leased the house +to you and they couldn't get it back." + +"Then you are sure," said Miss Cornelia quickly, "that tonight +Courtleigh Fleming broke in, with the Doctor's assistance--and +that he killed Dick, his own nephew, from the staircase?" + +"Aren't you?" asked Bailey surprised. The more he thought of it +the less clearly could he visualize it any other way. + +Miss Cornelia shook her head decidedly. + +"No." + +Bailey thought her merely obstinate--unwilling to give up, for +pride's sake, her own pet theory of the activities of the Bat. + +"Wells tried to get out of the house tonight with that blue-print. +Why? Because he knew the moment we got it, we'd come up here--and +Fleming was here." + +"Perfectly true," nodded Miss Cornelia. "And then?" + +"Old Fleming killed Dick and Wells killed Fleming," said Bailey +succinctly. "You can't get away from it!" + +But Miss Cornelia still shook her head. The explanation was too +mechanical. It laid too little emphasis on the characters of those +most concerned. + +"No," she said. "No. The Doctor isn't a murderer. He's as +puzzled as we are about some things. He and Courtleigh Fleming +were working together--but remember this--Doctor Wells was locked +in the living-room with us. He'd been trying to get up the stairs +all evening and failed every time." + +But Bailey was as convinced of the truth of his theory as she of +hers. + +"He was here ten minutes ago--locked in this room," he said with +a glance at the ladder up which the doctor had ascended. + +"I'll grant you that," said Miss Cornelia. "But--" She thought +back swiftly. "But at the same time an Unknown Masked Man was +locked in that mantel-room with Dale. The Doctor put out the +candle when you opened that Hidden Room. Why? Because he thought +Courtleigh Fleming was hiding there!" Now the missing pieces of +her puzzle were falling into their places with a vengeance. "But +at this moment," she continued, "the Doctor believes that Fleming +has made his escape! No--we haven't solved the mystery yet. There's +another element--an unknown element," her eyes rested for a moment +upon the Unknown, "and that element is--the Bat!" + +She paused, impressively. The others stared at her--no longer able +to deny the sinister plausibility of her theory. But this new +tangling of the mystery, just when the black threads seemed raveled +out at last, was almost too much for Dale. + +"Oh, call the detective!" she stammered, on the verge of hysterical +tears. "Let's get through with this thing! I can't bear any more!" + +But Miss Cornelia did not even hear her. Her mind, strung now to +concert pitch, had harked back to the point it had reached some +time ago, and which all the recent distractions had momentarily +obliterated. + +Had the money been taken out of the house or had it not? In that +mad rush for escape had the man hidden with Dale in the recess back +of the mantel carried his booty with him, or left it behind? It +was not in the Hidden Room, that was certain. + +Yet she was so hopeless by that time that her first search was +purely perfunctory. + +During her progress about the room the Unknown's eyes followed her, +but so still had he sat, so amazing had been the discovery of the +body, that no one any longer observed him. Now and then his head +drooped forward as if actual weakness was almost overpowering him, +but his eyes were keen and observant, and he was no longer taking +the trouble to act--if he had been acting. + +It was when Bailey finally opened the lid of a clothes hamper that +they stumbled on their first clue. + +"Nothing here but some clothes and books," he said, glancing inside. + +"Books?" said Miss Cornelia dubiously. "I left no books in that +hamper." + +Bailey picked up one of the cheap paper novels and read its title +aloud, with a wry smile. + +"'Little Rosebud's Lover, Or The Cruel Revenge,' by Laura Jean--" + +"That's mine!" said Lizzie promptly. "Oh, Miss Neily, I tell you +this house is haunted. I left that book in my satchel along with +'Wedded But No Wife' and now--" + +"Where's your satchel?" snapped Miss Cornelia, her eyes gleaming. + +"Where's my satchel?" mumbled Lizzie, staring about as best she +could. "I don't see it. If that wretch has stolen my satchel--!" + +"Where did you leave it?" + +"Up here. Right in this room. It was a new satchel too. I'll have +the law on him, that's what I'll do." + +"Isn't that your satchel, Lizzie?" asked Miss Cornelia, indicating +a battered bag in a dark corner of shadows above the window. + +"Yes'm," she admitted. But she did not dare approach very close to +the recovered bag. It might bite her! + +"Put it there on the hamper," ordered Miss Cornelia. + +"I'm scared to touch it!" moaned Lizzie. "It may have a bomb in it!" + +She took up the bag between finger and thumb and, holding it with +the care she would have bestowed upon a bottle of nitroglycerin, +carried it over to the hamper and set it down. Then she backed away +from it, ready to leap for the door at a moment's warning. + +Miss Cornelia started for the satchel. Then she remembered. She +turned to Bailey. + +"You open it," she said graciously. "If the money's there--you're +the one who ought to find it;" + +Bailey gave her a look of gratitude. Then, smiling at Dale +encouragingly, he crossed over to the satchel, Dale at his heels. +Miss Cornelia watched him fumble at the catch of the bag--even +Lizzie drew closer. For a moment even the Unknown was forgotten. + +Bailey gave a triumphant cry. + +"The money's here!" + +"Oh, thank God!" sobbed Dale. + +It was an emotional moment. It seemed to have penetrated even +through the haze enveloping the injured man in his chair. Slowly +he got up, like a man who has been waiting for his moment, and now +that it had come was in no hurry about it. With equal deliberation +he drew the revolver and took a step forward. And at that instant +a red glare appeared outside the open window and overhead could be +heard the feet of the searchers, running. + +"Fire!" screamed Lizzie, pointing to the window, even as Beresford's +voice from the roof rang out in a shout. "The garage is burning!" + +They turned toward the door to escape, but a strange and menacing +figure blocked their way. + +It was the Unknown--no longer the bewildered stranger who had +stumbled in through the living-room door--but a man with every +faculty of mind and body alert and the light of a deadly purpose +in his eyes. He covered the group with Miss Cornelia's revolver. + +"This door is locked and the key is in my pocket!" he said in a +savage voice as the red light at the window grew yet more vivid +and muffled cries and tramplings from overhead betokened universal +confusion and alarm. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +"HE IS--THE BAT!" + +Lizzie opened her mouth to scream. But for once she did not carry +out her purpose. + +"Not a sound out of you!" warned the Unknown brutally, almost +jabbing the revolver into her ribs. He wheeled on Bailey. + +"Close that satchel," he commanded, "and put it back where you +found it!" + +Bailey's fist closed. He took a step toward his captor. + +"You--" he began in a furious voice. But the steely glint in the +eyes of the Unknown was enough to give any man pause. + +"Jack!" pleaded Dale. Bailey halted. + +"Do what he tells you!" Miss Cornelia insisted, her voice shaking. + +A brave man may be willing to fight with odds a hundred to one-- +but only a fool will rush on certain death. Reluctantly, dejectedly, +Bailey obeyed--stuffed the money back in the satchel and replaced +the latter in its corner of shadows near the window. + +"It's the Bat--it's the Bat!" whispered Lizzie eerily, and, for +once her gloomy prophecies seemed to be in a fair way of +justification, for "Blow out that candle!" commanded the Unknown +sternly, and, after a moment of hesitation on Miss Cornelia's part, +the room was again plunged in darkness except for the red glow +at the window. + +This finished Lizzie for the evening. She spoke from a dry throat. + +"I'm going to scream!" she sobbed hysterically. "I can't keep it +back!" + +But at last she had encountered someone who had no patience with +her vagaries. + +"Put that woman in the mantel-room and shut her up!" ordered the +Unknown, the muzzle of his revolver emphasizing his words with a +savage little movement. + +Bailey took Lizzie under the arms and started to execute the order. +But the sometime colleen from Kerry did not depart without one +Parthian arrow. + +"Don't shove," she said in tones of the greatest dignity as she +stumbled into the Hidden Room. "I'm damn glad to go!" + +The iron doors shut behind her. Bailey watched the Unknown intently. +One moment of relaxed vigilance and-- + +But though the Unknown was unlocking the door with his left hand the +revolver in his right hand was as steady as a rock. He seemed to +listen for a moment at the crack of the door. + +"Not a sound if you value your lives!" he warned again, he shepherded +them away from the direction of the window with his revolver. + +"In a moment or two," he said in a hushed, taut voice, "a man will +come into this room, either through the door or by that window--the +man who started the fire to draw you out of this house." + +Bailey threw aside all pride in his concern for Dale's safety. + +"For God's sake, don't keep these women here!" he pleaded in low, +tense tones. + +The Unknown seemed to tower above him like a destroying angel. + +"Keep them here where we can watch them!" he whispered with fierce +impatience. "Don't you understand? There's a KILLER loose!" + +And so for a moment they stood there, waiting for they knew not what. +So swift had been the transition from joy to deadly terror, and now +to suspense, that only Miss Cornelia's agile brain seemed able to +respond. And at first it did even that very slowly. + +"I begin to understand," she said in a low tone. "The man who +struck you down and tied you in the garage--the man who killed Dick +Fleming and stabbed that poor wretch in the closet--the man who +locked us in downstairs and removed the money from that safe--the +man who started that fire outside--is--" + +"Sssh!" warned the Unknown imperatively as a sound from the direction +of the window seemed to reach his ears. He ran quickly back to the +corridor door and locked it. + +"Stand back out of that light! The ladder!" + +Miss Cornelia and Dale shrank back against the mantel. Bailey took +up a post beside the window, the Unknown flattening himself against +the wall beside him. There was a breathless pause. + +The top of the extension ladder began to tremble. A black bulk +stood clearly outlined against the diminishing red glow--the Bat, +masked and sinister, on his last foray! + +There was no sound as the killer stepped into the room. He waited +for a second that seemed a year--still no sound. Then he turned +cautiously toward the place where he had left the satchel--the +beam of his flashlight picked it out. + +In an instant the Unknown and Bailey were upon him. There was a +short, ferocious struggle in the darkness--a gasp of laboring +lungs--the thud of fighting bodies clenched in a death grapple. + +"Get his gun!" muttered the Unknown hoarsely to Bailey as he tore +the Bat's lean hands away from his throat. "Got it?" + +"Yes," gasped Bailey. He jabbed the muzzle against a straining back. +The Bat ceased to struggle. Bailey stepped a little away. + +"I've still got you covered!" he said fiercely. The Bat made no +sound. + +"Hold out your hands, Bat, while I put on the bracelets," commanded +the Unknown in tones of terse triumph. He snapped the steel cuffs +on the wrists of the murderous prowler. "Sometimes even the +cleverest Bat comes through a window at night and is caught. Double +murder--burglary--and arson! That's a good night's work even for +you, Bat!" + +He switched his flashlight on the Bat's masked face. As he did so +the house lights came on; the electric light company had at last +remembered its duties. All blinked for an instant in the sudden +illumination. + +"Take off that handkerchief!" barked the Unknown, motioning at the +black silk handkerchief that still hid the face of the Bat from +recognition. Bailey stripped it from the haggard, desperate +features with a quick movement--and stood appalled. + +A simultaneous gasp went up from Dale and Miss Cornelia. + +It was Anderson, the detective! And he was--the Bat! + +"It's Mr. Anderson!" stuttered Dale, aghast at the discovery. + +The Unknown gloated over his captive. + +"I'm Anderson," he said. "This man has been impersonating me. +You're a good actor, Bat, for a fellow that's such a bad actor!" +he taunted. "How did you get the dope on this case? Did you tap +the wires to headquarters?" + +The Bat allowed himself a little sardonic smile. + +"I'll tell you that when I--" he began, then, suddenly, made his +last bid for freedom. With one swift, desperate movement, in spite +of his handcuffs, he jerked the real Anderson's revolver from him +by the barrel, then wheeling with lightning rapidity on Bailey, +brought the butt of Anderson's revolver down on his wrist. Bailey's +revolver fell to the floor with a clatter. The Bat swung toward the +door. Again the tables were turned! + +"Hands up, everybody!" he ordered, menacing the group with the +stolen pistol. "Hands up--you!" as Miss Cornelia kept her hands +at her sides. + +It was the greatest moment of Miss Cornelia's life. She smiled +sweetly and came toward the Bat as if the pistol aimed at her heart +were as innocuous as a toothbrush. + +"Why?" she queried mildly. "I took the bullets out of that revolver +two hours ago." + +The Bat flung the revolver toward her with a curse. The real +Anderson instantly snatched up the gun that Bailey had dropped and +covered the Bat. + +"Don't move!" he warned, "or I'll fill you full of lead!" He smiled +out of the corner of his mouth at Miss Cornelia who was primly +picking up the revolver that the Bat had flung at her--her own +revolver. + +"You see--you never know what a woman will do," he continued. + +Miss Cornelia smiled. She broke open the revolver, five loaded +shells fell from it to the floor. The Bat stared at her--then +stared incredulously at the bullets. + +"You see," she said, "I, too, have a little imagination!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +QUITE A COLLECTION + +An hour or so later in a living-room whose terrors had departed, +Miss Cornelia, her niece, and Jack Bailey were gathered before a +roaring fire. The local police had come and gone; the bodies of +Courtleigh Fleming and his nephew had been removed to the mortuary; +Beresford had returned to his home, though under summons as a +material witness; the Bat, under heavy guard, had gone off under +charge of the detective. As for Doctor Wells, he too was under +arrest, and a broken man, though, considering the fact that +Courtleigh Fleming had been throughout the prime mover in the +conspiracy, he might escape with a comparatively light sentence. +In a little while the newspapermen of all the great journals would +be at the door--but for a moment the sorely tried group at +Cedarcrest enjoyed a temporary respite and they made the best of +it while they could. + +The fire burned brightly and the lovers, hand in hand, sat before +it. But Miss Cornelia, birdlike and brisk, sat upright on a chair +near by and relived the greatest triumph of her life while she +knitted with automatic precision. + +"Knit two, purl two," she would say, and then would wander once +more back to the subject in hand. Out behind the flower garden the +ruins of the garage and her beloved car were still smoldering; a +cool night wind came through the broken windowpane where not so +long before the bloody hand of the injured detective had intruded +itself. On the door to the hall, still fastened as the Bat had +left it, was the pathetic little creature with which the Bat had +signed a job--for once, before he had completed it. + +But calmly and dispassionately Miss Cornelia worked out the +crossword puzzle of the evening and announced her results. + +"It is all clear," she said. "Of course the Doctor had the +blue-print. And the Bat tried to get it from him. Then when the +Doctor had stunned him and locked him in the billiard room, the +Bat still had the key and unlocked his own handcuffs. After that +he had only to get out of a window and shut us in here." + +And again: + +"He had probably trailed the real detective all the way from town +and attacked him where Mr. Beresford found the watch." + +Once, too, she harkened back to the anonymous letters-- + +"It must have been a blow to the Doctor and Courtleigh Fleming when +they found me settled in the house!" She smiled grimly. "And when +their letters failed to dislodge me." + +But it was the Bat who held her interest; his daring assumption of +the detective's identity, his searching of the house ostensibly for +their safety but in reality for the treasure, and that one moment +of irresolution when he did not shoot the Doctor at the top of the +ladder. And thereafter lost his chance-- + +It somehow weakened her terrified admiration for him, but she had +nothing but acclaim for the escape he had made from the Hidden +Room itself. + +"That took brains," she said. "Cold, hard brains. To dash out of +that room and down the stairs, pull off his mask and pick up a +candle, and then to come calmly back to the trunk room again and +accuse the Doctor--that took real ability. But I dread to think +what would have happened when he asked us all to go out and leave +him alone with the real Anderson!" + +It was after two o'clock when she finally sent the young people +off to get some needed sleep but she herself was still bright-eyed +and wide-awake. + +When Lizzie came at last to coax and scold her into bed, she was +sitting happily at the table surrounded by divers small articles +which she was handling with an almost childlike zest. A clipping +about the Bat from the evening newspaper; a piece of paper on which +was a well-defined fingerprint; a revolver and a heap of five shells; +a small very dead bat; the anonymous warnings, including the stone +in which the last one had been wrapped; a battered and broken watch, +somehow left behind; a dried and broken dinner roll; and the box of +sedative powders brought by Doctor Wells. + +Lizzie came over to the table and surveyed her grimly. + +"You see, Lizzie, it's quite a collection. I'm going to take them +and--" + +But Lizzie bent over the table and picked up the box of powders. + +"No, ma'am," she said with extreme finality. "You are not. You +are going to take these and go to bed." + +And Miss Cornelia did. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Bat, by Rinehart and Hopwood + |