"
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.
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