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.
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