"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.
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