"Try this," she said. "My whole case hangs on my conviction that
that print and the one out there on the stair rail are the same."
He put down the paper and smiled at her ironically. "Your case!"
he said. "You don't really believe you need a detective at all,
do you?"
"I will only say that so far your views and mine have failed to
coincide. If I am right about that fingerprint, then you may be
right about my private opinion."
And on that he went out, rather grimly, paper and reading glass in
hand, to make his comparison.
It was then that Beresford came in, a new and slightly rigid
Beresford, and crossed to her at once.
"Miss Van Gorder," he said, all the flippancy gone from his voice,
"may I ask you to make an excuse and call your gardener here?"
Dale started uncontrollably at the ominous words, but Miss
Cornelia betrayed no emotion except in the increased rapidity of
her knitting.
"The gardener? Certainly, if you'll touch that bell," she said
pleasantly.
Beresford stalked to the bell and rang it. The three waited--Dale
in an agony of suspense.
The detective re-entered the room by the alcove stairs, his mien
unfathomable by any of the anxious glances that sought him out at
once.
"It's no good, Miss Van Gorder," he said quietly. "The prints are
not the same."
"Not the same!" gasped Miss Cornelia, unwilling to believe her ears.
Anderson laid down the paper and the reading glass with a little
gesture of dismissal.
Pages:
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192