" The detective's hands ran
swiftly and expertly over Bailey's form, through his pockets,
probing for concealed weapons. Then, slowly drawing a pair of
handcuffs from his pocket, he prepared to put them on Bailey's
wrists.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SIGN OF THE BAT
But Dale could bear it no longer. The sight of her lover, beaten,
submissive, his head bowed, waiting obediently like a common criminal
for the detective to lock his wrists in steel broke down her last
defenses. She rushed into the center of the room, between Bailey
and the detective, her eyes wild with terror, her words stumbling
over each other in her eagerness to get them out.
"Oh, no! I can't stand it! I'll tell you everything!" she cried
frenziedly. "He got to the foot of the stair-case--Richard Fleming,
I mean," she was facing the detective now, "and he had the blue-print
you've been talking about. I had told him Jack Bailey was here as
the gardener and he said if I screamed he would tell that. I was
desperate. I threatened him with the revolver but he took it from me.
Then when I tore the blue-print from him--he was shot--from the
stairs--"
"By Bailey!" interjected Beresford angrily.
"I didn't even know he was in the house!" Bailey's answer was as
instant as it was hot. Meanwhile, the Doctor had entered the room,
hardly noticed, in the middle of Dale's confession, and now stood
watching the scene intently from a post by the door.
"What did you do with the blue-print?" The detective's voice beat
at Dale like a whip.
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