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.
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