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.
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